Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Illumination ❯ Mission 09: Secondary Missive ( Chapter 14 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

-+-

“Airlock opening in four seconds.”

Alpha-One let out a breath inside his helmet as the metal door in front of him rose up and out of the way. Immediately he stepped forward, dragging his piece of the team's cargo with his right hand. The occupants of the space station clearly weren't expecting them, and began to shout in panic. Alpha-One raised his left hand and gave the signal; his squad mates behind him fired gas bombs into the station. The gas would only temporarily paralyze the pirates without hurting them, which was their goal for today's operation.

Once he and his team had reached the center of the docking bay, they stopped walking. The gas was already starting to clear out as the pirates activated the emergency life-support systems. Everything was proceeding according to plan.

Three men stood out from the rest, walking forward to meet Alpha-One and his team. They wore masks; apparently they had enough of a warning to put on filtration masks before approaching Alpha squad in the docking bay. “Who the hell are you?” the man in the center demanded, his voice partially distorted by the mask he wore. Based on his shaved head, dark complexion and tattoos down his arms, Alpha-One knew this was Sterling Lors, the leader of this group of pirates.

“Take these people,” Alpha-One said, dropping the unconscious body he was dragging with his right hand. His voice was artificially distorted to conceal his identity, along with the rest of his team. Wearing all black gear with helmets to cover their faces, the members of Alpha squad were indistinguishable from one another. “Demand ransom from their company for their safe return,” Alpha-One continued, and two of his squad mates took their cue to drag the other two unconscious people forward and drop them next to the first.

“Don't kill them,” Alpha-One said flatly. He reached up and pulled a black duffel bag from his shoulders, dropping it on the floor at his feet. “Here's one hundred thousand betas for your trouble,” he explained, not bothering to open the bag to reveal the cash inside.

The three pirates glanced at one another before a pale man with dark, wavy shoulder-length hair turned toward Alpha-One. “What if we refuse?” he asked, his eyes narrowing at the intruders.

Alpha-One didn't hesitate for a second. He immediately reached down for his pistol and brought it up, aiming for the man's left thigh. He fired a shot, hitting his target in the center of his thigh.

“Argh!” the man cried out before buckling over, covering the wound with both hands. His comrades quickly moved to help him, and Alpha-One holstered his weapon. He knew he wouldn't need to fire again; the pirates understood the message he was sending them.

Alpha-One then switched his comm over to internal only. “Alpha squad, move out,” he ordered, turning and walking back toward the airlock. The rest of the team fell into step behind him, leaving a crew of bewildered pirates behind.

The members of Alpha squad ascended the ramp back into their own ship, with all but one of them filing away farther into the ship. Alpha-One watched the cargo bay doors shut and waited for the hiss of the airlock before reaching up to his neck to unfasten his gear. Alphonse Drouet removed his helmet and used his left hand to wipe his black bangs out of his eyes.

“All right,” he heard a voice call out to him, heading into the cargo bay. Drouet turned and studied the young man with an intense stare, his green eyes scrutinizing the young Rieve enforcer.

Rouge finished closing the distance between himself and the Taydran operative before he spoke. “Let's get going. We've got a delivery to make,” he said with a smirk, the front edge of his red mohawk falling forward with each movement he made.

-+-

Illumination

Mission 09: Secondary Missive

-+-

Trunks was just finishing the last of his breakfast while watching a newscast in the lounge when Laiserta walked in. She stopped in front of him and kicked the single, centered metal leg of the table he was eating at, causing it to rock and nearly knock his cup of water over. Trunks nearly choked as he swallowed the last bite of his morning meal, and proceeded to look up at Laiserta and glare at her. “What the hell?” he asked, clearly irritated.

Laiserta looked at him and raised an eyebrow as if he was the one acting crazy. “I was trying to get your attention,” she answered plainly.

Trunks's mouth hung open in disbelief. “You couldn't have just said something?” he finally asked, when he could find his voice.

Laiserta shrugged. “Yo?” she said casually. Trunks shook his head before turning his attention back to the monitor on the other side of the room.

“Let's go shopping,” Laiserta broke in again, and Trunks's eyes slowly rolled over to his left to look at her. “You don't have shit in your closet,” she said in a somewhat-mocking tone, “and I'm bored.”

She wasn't wrong; Trunks didn't have a lot of clothing on board the ship. He opened his mouth to ask her when she'd gone through his stuff, when he suddenly realized that was a dumb question. “Because you've looked in my closet,” he said in realization, shaking his head at himself.

“Come on,” Laiserta whined, “let's go!”

Trunks sighed and laughed at himself. “I guess I don't have anything better to do,” he said ruefully and rose from his seat to take his empty plate and cup of water back to the galley. After quickly washing all the dishes and utensils he'd used and putting them away, he walked back into the bridge to see Laiserta talking to Armada.

“Hey,” Armada turned and called out to Trunks when he approached the two women. “I need to talk to you,” she said flatly. “Meet me in the cargo bay in three hours,” she added before walking past him and down the hall toward the cargo bay.

Trunks watched her walk away and raised an eyebrow. What could she possibly want? “What the hell was that about?” Laiserta asked, her voice sounding just as confused as Trunks.

“No idea,” Trunks answered and turned back to Laiserta. “I guess I'll find out later,” he added with a shrug.

-+-

Trunks dropped two large bags onto the floor in his room and started pulling items out to put them away. Apparently Laiserta liked to shop for other people, though when he asked why she got a wistful look in her eyes and muttered something unrelated. She'd wanted to change the subject and avoid answering his question, and Trunks let her. He still wasn't sure if she was all right or if she annoyed him to no end, but he did know that whatever she was trying to keep from him seemed kind of painful for her. So he wasn't going to ask her about it, at least not yet.

As Trunks began hanging his new clothes in his closet, he felt a little embarrassed again. Laiserta had picked out most of what he'd ended up purchasing, and had explained that this was fun for her. He relented because he didn't disagree with anything she had picked out, and he could use a little more variety in what he owned. He suddenly thought of his mother, and how she made fun of him for wearing the same jacket all the time. I appreciate the walking advertisement,she had joked while pointing to the Capsule Corp. logo on the left arm of his jacket, but you really need to switch things up a bit.He smiled to himself while thinking of her. He missed Bulma, and everyone else back on Earth, but he felt that he really needed to help Armada wipe out Rieve. Part of it was pride. His pride was wounded when the mafia had nearly killed him, even if it was only by circumstance. The other part was fear. Fear that Rieve would find out who he was, and where he was from, and come after his friends in Bmyhad or worse—they'd use the jump gate to come to Earth. He couldn't let that happen.

After getting everything put away, he checked his watch. He still had twenty minutes before he was supposed to meet Armada in the cargo bay, but he could sense that she was down there. Why wait?He thought and left his room. A few moments later he was walking down the stairs into the cargo bay. Once he reached the bottom, he turned around the corner and slowly came to a stop. Armada was standing with her back to him, her arms crossed in front of her. From the way she was standing, he thought she looked like she was thinking about something. He glanced around quickly and it appeared that she had moved some of the crates and other items around to the edges of the room, creating a wide open space. The same wide open space she stood in the middle of, still with her back to him.

“Am I too early?” Trunks asked, taking another cursory step forward.

“No,” Armada said and turned around to look at him. She was wearing a plain long-sleeved t-shirt and cargo pants, and her hair was pulled back in a braid. She took a few steps forward so she was only standing a meter away from Trunks. “Thanks for meeting me,” she added, and Trunks was immediately confused.

'Thanks?'he thought, sure the shock was evident on his face. That wasn't a word he heard from her very often, and usually only in extreme circumstances. Now he was nervous, worried about what this was all about. He studied Armada's face for any clue was to what was going on, and he thought he saw some reticence there. Is she nervous?he wondered.

“There's something I noticed about you a while ago,” she started, her voice sounding as plain and straightforward as always. “At first I wasn't sure, but after our last few operations now I'm certain that what I thought about you was right,” she added, looking straight into his eyes without any hesitation.

Trunks thought he was confused before, but now he was entirely bewildered. What could she be talking about? She thought about him? Oh Kami,Trunks thought as an idea came to him. She's not... she's not coming on to me, is she?! he thought in a panic. A cold chill ran down his spine at the idea, just like the time Neis had dumped a bucket of ice down the back of his shirt on a hot summer day. His imagination ran away with him, and he could picture Armada shouting angrily “I like you!”before attempting to punch him in the face. His face twisted up into a confused mess and he swallowed hard, bracing for whatever was coming next.

“Your fighting technique is terrible,” Armada said flatly.

Trunks blinked in stunned silence for a moment. “Wait, what?” he asked, his voice rising in shock. He certainly wasn't expecting her to say that.

“You have a lot of energy, so you can use it to move quickly and hit hard,” Armada began explaining her thesis statement. “But when you're forced to fight without it, and you have to rely completely on your own hand-to-hand combat skills, you don't fare well,” she continued. “It was really obvious when you fought with Lai, and again at the police station in Hrimth. It doesn't look like you've had any formal training in your life,” she finished.

Trunks was dumbfounded, and his mouth hung open for a moment as he tried to think of how to respond. She was saying he couldn't fight? He laughed darkly, looking down at the ground before bringing his gaze back up to meet hers. “Are you kidding me?” he asked defensively. “You're saying I can't fight?” he asked, his anger bleeding into the tone of his voice. He couldn't believe what she was saying.

“Yes,” Armada answered quickly.

“This is ridiculous,” Trunks said through angry laughter. “You're so jealous of me that now you're going to tell me that I can't fight?” he bit back, lifting up both hands to his sides in disbelief. “You're insane,” he shook his head at her. He was angry but also stunned at her audacity to insinuate that he was lacking in his ability to fight. Hell, if there was only one thing he was good at, that was it.

He took a step back to turn around and leave; really, she had asked him to meet her for this? “I didn't say you weren't strong,” she spoke up, her voice still even despite his outburst. “You're far more powerful than me, I get that,” she added, narrowing her eyes slightly. “But when it comes to pure fighting ability, without enhanced strength and speed due to the use of your energy, you're weak,” she paused for a moment. “And I can prove it to you,” she added with a determined gaze.

“Really?” Trunks scoffed.

Armada turned away from him and took a few steps over to a nearby metal crate. A small cylinder was sitting on top, and she pressed a few buttons on the item. Trunks then felt his energy melt away completely, and he immediately realized they were standing in a Minovsky field. Armada stepped away from the crate and lined up with Trunks, this time a little farther away. “If you can land one hit on me, you win,” she said sternly.

Trunks smirked despite himself; she was about to be embarrassed and he wasn't going to feel sorry for her. “How many tries do I get?” he asked, wanting to verify the rules of this stupid game.

“As many as you want,” she answered plainly. “It won't matter, you won't win,” she added, sliding backward a bit and bringing both hands up, preparing to defend against her comrade.

“Yeah?” Trunks laughed darkly, settling into an old fighting stance Gohan had taught him. Never had any real training? How ridiculous. “We'll see about that,” he added, narrowing his eyes. He studied her for a brief moment before moving in with a basic punch.

Armada quickly took a half step back and moved slightly to the side, catching Trunks's arm between both of her forearms. She then wrapped both of her hands around his right forearm and swiftly tossed him backwards, up over her head and back down toward the ground. He landed on his back with a loud thud and blinked in shock. That had all happened much faster than he thought possible.

Trunks sat up before rising completely from the ground. He turned and faced Armada, who looked at him with an emotion it was hard for him to place. It wasn't disdain, and it wasn't pity... perhaps it was an air of superiority. And it pissed him off.

-+-

Approximately an hour later, Trunks was leaned over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He was exhausted; a bead of sweat ran down the right side of his face. He'd just lost again when she'd punched him in the chest and knocked him back a few steps. Trunks had lost count now how many times he'd been defeated. As Armada stood across from him, calm and cool, he had to face the truth. She was right. As much as his pride hated it, she was right. No matter what he tried, she was able to stop him. At first it had been annoying, and then it was infuriating. Now, though... now he just felt pathetic.

“You win,” he said, his head falling forward so he didn't have to look at her. Trunks took another deep breath before looking back up at her, his hair partially covering his face. “You made your point,” he added, wondering what all of this was for.

Armada relaxed and stood upright. She walked over to the Minovsky generator sitting on a crate by the wall and powered it down. When his energy returned to him, Trunks felt renewed. He stood completely upright as Armada took a few steps toward him. She had a slight sheen of sweat of her forehead but otherwise appeared fine. His pride took another hit; not only had she kicked his ass like she said she would, but she did so while barely breaking a sweat.

“How much formal training have you had?” Armada asked, her face giving away the slightest hint of concern.

Trunks had to think about what she'd asked. He had only trained with Gohan for just over a year, and that was mostly focused on gaining strength versus learning technique. It wasn't as if Gohan was a bad teacher, but they were in an extreme situation, doing their best to gain enough strength to survive and one day defeat the androids. Then there was the year he spent in the Room of Spirit and Time in the past with his father. That... wasn't really structured training, either. His father merely beat the shit out of him in an attempt to gain strength. Trunks supposed he could consider it a kind of training, since if nothing else he learned what notto do while fighting his father.

“Two years,” Trunks finally answered. It was the truth, even if the training he'd received wasn't very technical.

Armada nodded slightly. “I thought so,” she said softly.

Trunks laughed under his breath. “That bad, huh?” he asked, giving her a sheepish smile.

“Don't feel bad,” Armada replied. “I've got a lot of years on you.”

“Really?” he asked, intrigued. “How many?” he continued, curious just exactly how much training it took for someone to outclass him so badly.

“Fourteen years of daily training in between operations,” she answered, her eyes falling away from his briefly. “I've mastered six different martial arts, I'm expert level in another fourteen and an advanced-intermediate in another thirty-five,” she added.

“Wow,” Trunks blurted out, amazed by what she'd just listed. Maybe she was more of a badass than he'd previously given her credit for. “How'd you manage that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering him. “Doesn't matter,” she finally said. “Anyway, the point of all this is,” Armada let out a breath before continuing. “I'd like to train you. Teach you proper technique,” she quickly added. “I think you have a lot of room for improvement.” She stopped for a moment and swallowed thickly; Trunks almost thought she was nervous. “If you want me to,” she finished.

“It's probably not a bad idea,” Trunks said, a smirk slowly appearing on his face. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Let's do that.”

“Anyway,” Armada interjected before turning away from him and walking over to pick up the Minovsky generator still sitting on the crate. “That's enough for today,” she finished, turning to look at him while holding the device.

“So when do we start?” Trunks asked. It was the natural follow-up question to the idea of Armada teaching him, which was still something he had to wrap his head around.

“Tomorrow,” she said flatly. “Barring that we're not busy,” she elaborated. Armada then walked past him and headed back upstairs.

Trunks laughed ruefully at himself. He wondered what Gohan would think if he could see his pupil now.

-+-

Later that day in the early evening, Trunks stood next to Laiserta in the bridge, looking at the ship's main monitor while Armada brought up information on a new job sent to her. “Three days ago, a courier ship was boarded and hijacked by pirates at a remote space station in Alliance space,” Armada began. “The three couriers on board were kidnapped and are being held hostage for a ransom of four million betas from their company, the Baesman Courier Group. They're a part of the Winner Corporation conglomerate based out of Ceva,” Armada continued, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. Trunks knew that Ceva was another nation in the Federation Alliance, not unlike Bmyhad, but there was a considerable distance between those two worlds.

“Which station?” Laiserta asked, leaning forward and settling her forearms on the back of Armada's chair. “Was it EVC9443?” she supplied.

“That's the one,” Armada nodded, and Trunks thought she sounded slightly impressed.

“Yeah pirates are bad out that way,” Laiserta explained. “Doesn't surprise me that someone was hijacked, considering that nobody patrols that area,” she finished, sparing a glance to her left at Trunks.

“Anyway,” Armada cut in, “the Winner Corporation wants their employees back, unharmed, without paying the ransom.” She pressed a few more buttons and another set of images came up, including a few mugshots. “The pirates are a group known as LOR,” she said, pronouncing the initials separately.

“I've heard of these idiots,” Laiserta laughed. “The 'Lords of Ravage,' right?”

“Their leader is a man named Sterling Lors,” Armada replied, “so that's likely where the name came from. Regardless,” she changed the subject back to the pertinent details, “the pirates are holed up in their base with the hostages. Their base is a space station just inside the Republican border, not far from where they abducted the couriers,” she added.

“So if it's a space station then you two can't go in just guns-blazing,” Laiserta said, glancing between Trunks and Armada. “But I can,” she added, a wide grin spreading across her face as she stood upright.

“This shouldn't be difficult,” Armada said, turning in her chair to look at her comrades. “The pirates won't have a Minovsky field, it's not something they can afford. And they don't have any known energy fighters among their ranks,” she finished.

Trunks laughed, “It'd be nice to have an easy job for once.” He paused a moment before asking about the one thing Armada had yet to mention. “How much is the Winner Corporation paying for this rescue?”

“Four hundred and sixty thousand betas,” Armada replied automatically.

Laiserta whistled. “Nice chunk of change,” she said in surprise.

Armada turned in her chair, facing the ship's console once more. “It should take us a little over two days to get there,” she stated, preparing the ship for launch.

“Whoa whoa,” Laiserta moved to Armada's right side and leaned over somewhat so she could look at the blonde mercenary face-to-face. “This ship can fly way faster than that,” the Taydran mercenary began, “why the hell are you gonna fly so slow?”

Armada turned slightly in her chair to face Laiserta. “Because we need to stay off of radar,” she replied, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yeah well just fly slow until we get out of planetary scanning range, then kick it up a notch,” Laiserta replied, her annoyance clear in her tone. Armada eyed Laiserta warily, who then sighed and stood upright. “Fine, whatever,” she huffed before turning and heading back toward the barracks.

Trunks watched Laiserta leave before looking back toward Armada again. He felt the ship's engines roar to life and begin lifting the ship into the sky. “Can you do that?” he asked, wondering if what Laiserta suggested was possible.

Armada finished setting the ship's course and turned in her chair to face him. “We could,” she replied and paused for a moment, “but it's not typically a risk that I take. Even if we are out the range of any planetary scanners, doesn't mean we can't be picked up by long-range radar. If we are, someone could calculate our course and figure out that we left from Bmyhad,” she finished.

“Yeah but doesn't Rieve already know that we're on Bmyhad?” Trunks asked, motioning slightly with his right hand.

“Yes, but it doesn't mean we should advertise it to everyone else,” Armada answered plainly.

“Speaking of Rieve,” Trunks started again, glancing down the hall toward the barracks to make sure Laiserta wasn't about to walk into the bridge before turning back toward his comrade. “Why don't they just come after us?” he asked. “I mean, reallycome after us, not just these one-off attacks,” he added.

“They'd never get their fleet to Bmyhad, for one,” Armada replied. “Secondly, Bmyhad's a highly advanced nation. It's not easy for Rieve to move around unnoticed.”

Trunks laughed slightly, “But it is for us?”

Armada smirked. “We don't wear a stupid blue uniform advertising who we are,” she explained. “Besides, we're better than they are at laying low. These guys don't know anything about stealth, and they're not properly trained. They're just a bunch of thugs organized into a group,” she finished.

“Based on their reputation alone, they don't sound like they're just a bunch of thugs,” Trunks replied, his visage falling. They appeared to be much smarter than that.

“It's their leadership,” Armada answered. “They have a fleet, and an elite group of fighters. Corvus was one of them,” she paused a moment and continued. “But their biggest strength is their leadership, it always has been.” Her eyes dropped away from his for a moment. “Whoever is calling the shots knows what they're doing.”

Trunks's face showed his confusion at her words. “You don't know who it is?” he asked, surprised that she wouldn't know.

“It's someone in the Rieve family,” Armada answered, her eyes meeting his again. “I don't know who exactly,” she added flatly. “There was some kind of shake-up some years ago among the leadership, but nobody seems to know who came out on top.”

Trunks now felt that they had a much clearer target when it came to information on Rieve. Perhaps if they knew which member of the Rieve family was leading the organization, they would have a target to strike. If leadership was their strength, then Trunks thought it made sense to hit them there. Cut the head off of a snake, and all. “Let's see if we can figure that out,” he replied.

-+-

Hacking the pirates' space station to disable their defenses was too easy. Decrypting their communications signals and docking to the station was equally easy. Armada was right when she had told Trunks she wasn't a hacker. She had tools she had purchased that made breaking and entering as easy as the click of a button. Trunks laughed lightly to himself; his mother would certainly find this technology interesting.

“Lai,” Trunks spoke as the trio stood in the air lock, waiting on the final door into the station to open. “What have we got?” he asked.

“Hmm,” Laiserta replied, tilting her head slightly as she used her eyes to look through the metal door and into the station beyond. “Bunch of snipers up on the balcony to the left. Large group of guys waiting off to the right on the ground floor, a couple under the balcony on the left,” she listed off almost disinterestedly.

“What about the hostages?” Armada asked.

“Looks like they're in a room in the back, on the left, down the central corridor,” Laiserta answered, her eyes still adjusting as she studied the space station before them. “But they're not alone,” she added slowly while squinting.

The air lock finished pressurizing and the door in front of the mercenaries slowly started to rise. Laiserta smirked to herself and drew both pistols from her hips. Trunks watched Laiserta for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak, but found that someone else had cut him off.

“Try not to kill anyone,” Armada ordered, glancing to Laiserta from the corner of her eyes.

“Tch,” Laiserta huffed, “you take all the fun out of it.”

“We don't need a band of pirates following us around on some stupid revenge trip,” Armada elaborated, her eyes narrowing at her comrade.

“Fine, fine, I won't kill anyone,” Laiserta conceded with a shrug. Trunks was glad, and chanced a glance at Armada. He wondered why she would care about them not killing the pirates. He certainly wasn't afraid to kill anyone if he felt he had to, but Armada played a lot more loosely with people's lives. Or at least he thought she did.

The door finally raised high enough that the mercenaries could run through, and they charged forward. Laiserta immediately took aim for the pirates up on the balcony, firing shots in quick succession. Each bullet hit a target, either in a shoulder or a thigh, causing each pirate to drop their weapon or drop to the floor.

Armada and Trunks both flew forward at full speed, and Trunks diverted to the right when he noticed a dozen or so pirates running down a flight of stairs toward the open area of the dock. Trunks flew into the group, using his energy to move faster than any of the men could register. With a few well-placed punches to the abdomen or chest of each pirate, each of the men fell to the ground, unconscious. Trunks flew back down the hall to the docking bay to find another group of pirates headed for Laiserta from behind. He charged at them, quickly knocking out the seven pirates the same as the others before.

Laiserta turned and looked at Trunks over her shoulder. “Thanks wonder boy,” she said with a smirk.

While her comrades handled the front of the house, Armada flew to the back. It was far too easy to put down the few pirates guarding the three hostages. Without a Minovsky field to stop her, she could move far faster than they could think. With several strong punches, her enemies were out cold. Armada then moved toward the three couriers, bound and gagged, lying on the floor amongst some cargo crates.

Armada knelt next to one of the couriers, a young man with short blonde hair. She tried to pull him to a seated position, but his body was limp in her hands and he didn't even seem to be conscious. Upon a closer look, his breathing was shallow and he was covered in sweat. Armada's eyes narrowed as she thought about what she was looking at. Clearly something was wrong with the couriers.

Back in the docking bay, all the pirates were down when Trunks and Laiserta heard a noise behind them. They spun around in time to see two men holding rifles pointed at them. Without thinking, Laiserta immediately raised the pistol in her right hand and fired, shooting the paler man in his right thigh.

The dark haired man dropped his weapon, both hands immediately clutching his leg. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath before falling to the floor ungracefully.

The darker skinned, bald headed man dropped his weapon and raised his hands. “Please,” he began, “we surrender. Please don't hurt my men,” he added, and Trunks noted the tattoos up and down the man's arms. He matched the description of Sterling Lors, the group's leader.

Laiserta glanced at her comrade, a look of surprise on her face. “Well that was pretty easy,” she said plainly.

“We're here for the couriers,” Trunks said to Sterling. “If we leave with them without any trouble from you, then no one has to be hurt,” he finished.

“Take the bastards!” the dark-haired man on the floor shouted while still pressing on to the gunshot wound in his right thigh. “We never wanted them in the first place!”

Laiserta watched the man curiously while Trunks looked back at Sterling. “What's he talking about, you never wanted them?” Trunks asked, his eyes displaying his suspicion to the pirates.

“We didn't kidnap them,” Sterling explained angrily, “they were dumped on us. We were told to play along with the kidnapping story or suffer the consequences,” he explained.

“By who?” Trunks asked. He was highly skeptical of this convenient story to make the pirates look like victims themselves.

Sterling grimaced before answering. “I don't know,” he said through gritted teeth. “They were military, wearing all back with masks and voice modulators.”

Trunks opened his mouth to follow up to what the pirate leader had just said when he was cut off by a voice on the radio in his ear. “Laiserta, something's wrong with the couriers, I need your help,”he heard Armada say to his comrade.

“On our way,” Laiserta said, glancing at Trunks before she started walking toward the back of the docking bay. Trunks quickly fell into step next to her as they walked. Once they were out of earshot of the pirates, Laiserta looked at Trunks. “They might not be lying about that,” she said, referring to what Sterling had said.

“Why's that?” Trunks asked.

“The guy on the ground, he has a gunshot wound in his other leg, and it's not from me,” she replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

Moments later, Trunks and Laiserta walked up to Armada who was still kneeling on the ground next to the three couriers. She turned and looked up at Laiserta. “Something's not right with them,” she started. “Lai, can you take a look?”

Laiserta nodded and stared at each of the couriers, her irises rotating around her pupils in a way that still made Trunks uneasy, so he had to look away. After about a minute, Laiserta spoke. “Temperatures are high, blood pressure is up, but brain activity is down.” She paused a moment before another thought hit her. “Are they high?” she asked, looking to Armada in confusion.

“I think they've been drugged,” Armada answered. “We can test to find out exactly what they've been dosed with when we get them back to the ship,” she finished, pulling up the blonde haired courier as she stood. “Let's get going,” Armada said and started flying out, carrying the unconscious courier bridal-style as she flew.

Laiserta shrugged at Trunks before reaching down to pick up the one woman among the hostages and tossed her over her shoulder. Trunks picked up the last courier, a brown haired young man, and carried him the same way as Armada as he too flew out of the room.

-+-

The couriers laid in the three beds in the infirmary, free from their handcuffs and gags, but all still unconscious. Armada stood at the counter in the infirmary, waiting for a small computer to finish running tests on the last of the three couriers' blood. When the device beeped indicating it had finished its analysis, none of the mercenaries were surprised at the results. “It's the same as the others,” Armada said and turned to face her comrades, “they were all dosed with angel dust.”

“What is that?” Trunks asked. He gathered it was some kind of drug from the way Armada and Laiserta had discussed it already, but wanted to know a little more.

“It's a street drug,” Laiserta answered, her arms crossed over her chest where she leaned back against the wall opposite Armada. “Outlawed because long term use causes brain damage,” she added. “Doesn't matter where you are in the universe, there's always a contingent of people who want to get high,” Laiserta explained, glancing at Trunks. He supposed she was right, as the same problem existed on Earth as well.

Armada finished preparing three injections to administer to each courier to counteract the effects of the drug. The mercenaries walked into the other room of the infirmary where the three couriers lay, and Armada quickly injected the medicine into the intravenous line they had setup for each courier. The three hostages were severely dehydrated and needed the fluids.

“You think what Sterling said was true?” Laiserta asked, looking toward Armada.

“I don't know,” she answered plainly, turning her attention to her comrade. “Kidnapping for ransom isn't something that LOR typically does,” she finished.

One of the couriers started to move slightly in his bed, drawing the mercenaries' attention. “It wasn't them,” the blonde haired courier said quietly, his voice shaky.

The mercenaries moved closer to him, surprised that one of the couriers was already coming to. “What happened?” Armada asked, looking down at the man from the right side of his bed.

“We were ambushed while refueling on the trip to Bmyhad,” he said, his voice still hoarse and weak. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a hurried breath. “Military,” he said, shaking his head. “They injected us with something, next thing I knew we were with these pirates,” he finished.

“Who was it? The military,” Armada added, hoping to get as much information from the courier as possible.

“Don't know,” he said, opening his eyes again to look at her. “They were wearing all black, and they spoke some bizarre language I've never heard before,” he finished, closing his eyes again.

The mercenaries all exchanged glances, but before anyone could say anything, another voice spoke up. “I know what it was,” the brown-haired woman in the group said from the bed to the left of her blonde coworker. “I've heard it before,” she continued, her voice as weak as the man next to her. “It was Taydran,” she finished.

Trunks looked to Laiserta. “I thought Taydrans spoke Ferian like everyone else?” he asked. Trunks had learned that the language he spoke, the same as the Bmyhadians, was a language spoken across the universe called 'Ferian.' He had read that it originated in the Republic thousands of years ago, and spread due to the prominence of a merchant world called Feros, where the language was initially spoken.

“They do, but a small percentage of the population can also speak native Taydran,” she added. “While it's still considered an official language of Taydr, it's almost never used in an official capacity,” Laiserta finished, looking just as perplexed as her comrades.

Armada crossed her arms over her chest as she thought. “But why would the Taydran military kidnap a few couriers and make it look like a group of pirates did it?” she asked, her eyebrows drawn together as she thought.

A thought occurred to Trunks. “They're couriers, right?” he started. “So what were they delivering? Maybe that's what the Taydrans wanted,” he finished.

Armada's face lit up at his suggestion. “Good idea,” she said and looked back down at the blonde courier. “What were you delivering to Bmyhad?” she asked flatly.

“Encrypted tablets,” the young man replied. “I don't know what kind of data was on them. But,” he smiled slightly, “we always have a way to track items we're delivering.”

-+-

Alphonse Drouet glared up at the figure that backed away from him after tying a gag around his head, preventing him from speaking. He sat on the floor with his comrades, the five of them bound, gagged and sitting in a circle in the bridge of their cargo ship. They'd been ambushed and boarded, beaten and now humiliated on their way back to their homeworld. To say that Alphonse was angry would be putting it mildly, especially after the punch he'd taken to the left side of his face, already sporting a nasty bruise.

Laiserta took a step back from the Taydran spies and dusted her hands off. “All done,” she said with a smirk as the last man she had gagged stared at her with furious green eyes. “Aww, don't be so upset,” she said mockingly, “you guys never stood a chance against me.”

At the other end of the bridge, Trunks was examining several tablets to ensure they had picked up the right ones. After isolating the two that the Baesman couriers were delivering and setting them aside, he began going through the other three tablets to see if there was anything of interest. The first two barely had any information on them from what he could tell, and he was able to quickly set them aside. The third however, had information on it but the files were in a language he didn't recognize. The documents were some kind of form but the information meant nothing to him. He didn't hope to stare at the words until he suddenly learned a new language, but something in the back of his mind was bugging him about it. He thought he heard Laiserta say something to Armada, but he wasn't really listening... and then an idea struck him.

“Hey, Lai,” he said, turning around to look for his comrade. He spotted her standing near the pilot's console with Armada, and they both turned toward him. Trunks held up the tablet in one hand, “Can you take a look at this?” he asked. If the couriers were right, and their kidnappers did indeed speak Taydran, perhaps that was the language on the device he'd found.

Laiserta walked towards Trunks, taking a moment to leer at the soldiers she'd left tied up on the floor as she passed by them. “What's up wonder boy?” she asked casually once she'd reached him.

Trunks held out the tablet to her and she took it from his hand. “Can you read that?” he asked, looking at the device and then back up at her.

“Let's see,” Laiserta let out a deep breath as she studied the device, flipping through a few items. “Yeah,” she glanced up at him, “it's written in Taydran.”

Laiserta took a few moments to read the information in front of her, and Armada approached the pair. “What have you got?” she asked Trunks, not bothering to talk to Laiserta since she appeared to be busy.

“Something that I think belongs to those guys,” Trunks replied, motioning slightly to the group they'd subdued.

“It's a bunch of shipping manifests,” Laiserta broke in, not taking her eyes off of the device. “The last one is dated a few days ago.”

“Shipping manifests for what?” Armada asked.

“Don't know,” Laiserta replied immediately. “It doesn't say. But,” she moved her head slightly, indicating she was thinking about how to explain what she was looking at. “Taydran is an odd language grammatically,” she started, looking at both of her comrades, “which is why it's so difficult for people to learn who don't learn it natively, and why it's so hard to translate. Anyway,” she shifted her weight on her feet, “sometimes how you say things has to do with the subject you're speaking about. While this manifest doesn't say what was being shipped, the words used indicate that it was something,” she trailed off a moment, thinking of how to translate what she was reading. “Dangerous, hazardous,” she paused.

“Like a weapon?” Armada broke in, her eyes narrowing at the thought.

“Yeah, actually,” Laiserta said, her face lighting up in understanding. “That would fit this really well,” she added, holding up the tablet in her right hand.

Armada brought her right fist toward her mouth, like she often did when thinking about something. “Why would rogue Taydran operatives be delivering weapons this way? And where were they taking them?”

Laiserta laughed, “They're not rogue, they're definitely operating under someone's orders. And the big guy with the shiner,” she said, glancing toward their captives and then back to her allies, “he speaks Taydran.”

“How do you know?” Trunks asked.

Laiserta smirked. “I may have said something about his mother in Taydran, and he definitelydidn't like it,” she grinned darkly.

“Anyway, let's get out of here,” Armada broke in. “I'll finish setting this ship's course, you two grab the tablets that were part of the delivery and head back to our ship.”

Laiserta held up the other tablet, “And I'll be taking this. Maybe if I look over it more closely we can find something interesting,” she added with a smile.

“Where are you sending the cargo ship?” Trunks asked, curious as to what his partner had up her sleeve.

Armada smirked. “We'll be sending these soldiers back home,” she answered.

-+-

I tried to keep things a little shorter this time, and add a little more humor, hahaha. Also, I would love a review from anyone who reads this. :] Thanks for reading!