Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ransom Due ❯ Wish I Had A Drink and A Mike Finn for Him ( Chapter 19 )

disclaimer: Dragonball and its associated characters are not my intellectual property. I only borrow them here for my own entertainment and not profit.

A/N: I think this will be the last of the flashbacks and will move on after this. I still haven't settled on how things will turn out upon arrival, I only know it's not going to be pretty.

Ransom Due

Chapter - 19. Wish I Had a Drink and a Mike Finn for Him (or Cave Gambit Afterglow)

It took several days for Raditzu to rendezvous with Missionary. He'd had an idea of what heading to set in the navigation systems on the old freighter as he usually had the immediate purge roster memorized, but he'd been unsure of how long Daax would have waited before declaring the mission a failure and moving on. Being sent in a drop pod meant that his return would have been expected before Missionary left the planet's orbit which by protocol dictated a standard month or less. The date stamp on his scouter had indicated that he'd spent nearly two months on the surface, and he'd had to push the old bird in the hopes of catching up to the larger ship.

The trip passed uneventfully, in no small part due to the fact that he'd unceremoniously dumped the slave in the cargo hold and left it there. Aside from the time or two he cracked the access hatch to check on it and toss in some scant rations, he'd decided that perhaps he was better off if he just steered clear of the thing until finding himself in some state of normalcy. Despite the fact that it remained in its weaker state and probably wouldn't pose any sort of a problem he couldn't handle, the odd feeling of attraction that had begun in the caverns on Andolonusia had never left him and in truth intensified somewhat after having some time to think over the trials he'd endured there. He knew he would at least have to have something that made enough sense to put in a report upon boarding Missionary, and most of what transpired had no place in formal documentation. Nor would he ever want to commit such things to any kind of record as he reasoned they were best forgotten altogether.

When he finally made radio contact with Missionary, he was surprised that the medical officer was the one to answer his hail. She dryly responded that the ship was low on staff, making her the most qualified to run communications when he queried.

"Well," he responded tersely, "get permission to return to the medical bay and ready for my arrival. We will be in need of quarantine procedures."

"We? How many are with you? And why?..."

"Tch. My slave somehow managed to survive what appears to have been a festering blight of pathogen on that world, the rest perished."

"Amazing. We had no such information in the rosters about anything infectious there. This must be a completely unknown and undocumented pathogen then? And you're saying the two of you have a natural immunity?" He could hear the overtone of boredom in her voice change to expectancy at his mention of festering disease. Medical staff, he thought, exasperated.

"Just have it taken care of by the time we dock," he snipped and turned off the communicator.

They remained in the medical bay for a lot longer than he thought necessary after they arrived on ship. The technician insisted that a battery of tests be run concerning the infection, and he really didn't like being subjected to such scrutiny, doubly so being that he'd decided to continue to mask the majority of power he'd gained on planet. The technician's eagerness to analyze whatever evidence was left of the virus eventually turned to frustration as test after test revealed very little about the virus except that it could not survive or replicate if the host left the environment of the planet. She grumbled something about not being equipped with the proper resources to reverse engineer the virus and having to send the information to techs stationed on-world.

Worse, the slave had transformed again and took the opportunity to point out that they could have bypassed quarantine and tried to infect the whole ship.

"Too bad it wouldn't have worked," she quipped as the technician looked her over, "but it could've been some real fun. I bet that ugly captain would be worth a fortune if he turned, and hijacking a big ship like this…"

"Probably wouldn't have happened anyway," the technician broke in. "There's enough variance in the population on this ship that such a selective infection wouldn't spread far before being contained." She turned to Raditzu, "Which is why I find it hard to believe all of the others sent to the planet died from it."

He bristled "The Captain will have my report. Such details are none of your concern."

"You ought to be worried about all these contusions," she said, indicating evidence of the thrashing he'd given the slave and quickly changing the subject. "I imagine this one will be in considerable pain for the next few days. Carrying out regular duties will be difficult."

"Really?" he asked in feigned concern, smirking callously at his captive. "How unfortunate."

"I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle," the slave grumbled and smirked back at him.

The med tech watched them silently snipe at each other for a moment before continuing. "Well, I doubt duties will be regular for either of you in the near future. Even though you didn't come back completely empty handed, the Captain is not exactly pleased with the outcome of your mission. Add to this his edginess over the upcoming tournament, and I expect to see you in regen often in the near future."

"Then perhaps it is you who should worry about a swell in your workload," he remarked.

"If you find that your charge has trouble keeping up, have it returned here. There might be something I could do to help with that," she paused and added warily, "but it wouldn't fall under normal procedure."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Painkillers, contraband. I only have a very small amount, but I would be willing to be divested of it should the need arise." She swallowed nervously, appearing to choose her next words carefully. "I understand that you are in somewhat delicate circumstances, sir. You may require the efficiency and obedience the side effects could provide. The only hitch is I have no control specimen for appropriate dosage, so death is a possibility as well."

"I cannot see that I would have need to test such methods, especially in light of the sub par effectiveness of your last experiment. If you are finished?" He rose from the examination table and collected the slave, heading immediately to the Captain's conference room for debriefing.

Daax was waiting for him.

"Sub Commander, I welcome your return," he said benevolently as Raditzu entered the chamber. However, he did not rise from his chair, remaining shadowed in the expansiveness of it. "We thought we had lost you for a while there." His puckered lips twisted into a contrived grin and he leaned forward perching his plump chin atop his steepled, nubby fingers. "I await your formal report with anticipation, but for now, I only require clarification on one matter." He unclasped his hands, indicating the slave, which had thankfully remained quiet, though standing, in his audience.

"Kneel!" he commanded. The slave made a malcontent face, but obeyed the command, settling to the floor a few paces behind Raditzu, who went down on one knee as well. It was only then that the Captain stood, as if to punctuate his authority. "Why is it that you return with your property intact, when your orders were to dispatch the entirety of failures remaining on world?"

Raditzu didn't get to answer before the Captain followed up his question with a heavy blow to his head, sending him reeling. His skull rattled as Daax stood, placing a foot on his neck and forcing his face to the floor.

"My interrogations," he sputtered, barely in control of keeping his power level dampened, "I haven't finished…"

Daax laid extra pressure to his neck, and he wanted nothing more than to spring up and throw the entirety of his power in the Captain's face, but he knew it would buy him but small satisfaction before he'd be overpowered, subdued and probably killed. "Are my orders somehow subordinate to your personal matters?" the Captain asked, his tone still deceptively civil.

"No," Raditzu struggled not to choke on the words as the Captain's considerable weight threatened to close off his windpipe entirely. "But, my mission and the associated interrogations are to be carried out by Freiza Sama's edict," he ground out the last, trailing off into something of a whisper, "anything personal not withstanding."

Before his eyes rolled back unbidden as breathing became completely impossible, he thought he caught a glimpse of an impish grin on Daxx's lips. Nothing unusual about that as the Captain had always enjoyed such sadistic indulgences whenever the opportunity presented itself, which he reflected wryly, was often at his expense. However, if he wasn't mistaken, he thought the look was directed at the slave, and he knew for sure if he knew anything about her in her stronger form that obedience on her part was likely feigned. She echoed the grin behind the surreptitiously draped fringe of blonde hair that concealed her only slightly bowed face.

He barely had time to think the repercussions of such a thing before Daax lifted his foot. "True enough," the Captain quipped, only to haul back and kick the side of the Sub Commander's head as he struggled to lift it. Raditzu felt something snap and tasted the metallic tang of blood as the follow through sent him flying. He landed on his back and rolled over, managing to get up on his hands and knees despite his better judgment and the incessant ringing between his ears telling him to just stay down.

"Still, you shouldn't get too attached." Daax detoured back around his chair and paused at a small table beside it, retrieving a beverage from a conveniently placed decanter. "It's distracting," he meandered back over, sipping at his drink. "And with you on the roster for the tournament," he kicked hard, landing Raditzu on his back again, then drove home the rest of his statements by stomping down, all the while making a show of not spilling a drop of his drink.

"You don't..." (ribs) "...need..." (gut) "...any..." (knee) "...unnecessary..." (shin), he paused for a moment, glancing back at the slave and licking his lips before surveying the Saiyan at his feet. Raditzu had made some effort to dodge the first couple of blows but finding it mostly useless in the face of the Captain's much greater speed and strength, he laid still and fixed Daax with a caustic glare, determined to take his knocks with some modicum of dignity. He managed until the very last.

"...Distractions!" (groin). Though he'd been able to twist away so that the blow didn't fall on it's intended target, he still wasn't fast enough to be missed entirely. He knew he wouldn't be walking anywhere at speed before spending time in regen, in any case. Again he stifled the instinct to fight back. The Captain's power level was pushing 8,000 on a bad day and he'd learned the hard way in the past that Daax didn't take kindly to sparring in his conference room. He rolled onto his side and curled up a little, hoping to convince Daax that he'd hit the mark and reminding himself that taking such a beating was only going to increase his power in the end, yet he wasn't willing to take that particular damage if he didn't have to. He still couldn't resist the urge to throw a little back at the Captain.

"How could I not be distracted looking at your ugly face every day?" he spat, struggling not to groan and disappointed at his inability to come up with a jab any harsher.

"Hahaha... Yeah," Daax took a noisy sip of his drink and headed back to his chair. "That's what she said." He plopped back down in his seat unceremoniously, gesturing towards the slave.

"What?" Raditzu managed to push himself up on his elbows at this, and found himself glaring at the slave, who actually looked a little shaken up at the turn things had taken.

"Oooooh. Did I hit a nerve?" Daax laughed again. "You insult me. To think that I would have interest in such a waif, beyond regular duties. Though, you do realize I can have it sequestered and simply remove you from the equation if I choose to. And I will if I see even a little drop in your performance. In fact, you can leave it here. Have it clean up the mess you've made of my floor. You're dismissed for the moment."

With that he drained his glass and unceremoniously exited the room, leaving Raditzu to wonder that a shard of his own fibula had poked through his leg without notice during the Captain's little superiority dance. The resulting flow of blood, also unheeded in his rush of anger, had indeed created quite a mess.

"Well," he barked at the slave, who remained uncharacteristically reticent in her stronger form, "you heard the man." He picked himself up with no more regard to her than that, vowing to forget Andonolusia and everything associated with it beyond the unexpected rise in his power level and filing the expected report. Likewise, the slave. He would only deal with it for necessary interrogations. The damn thing could remain in isolation beyond that for all he cared. The Captain didn't need to sequester it. The prepared meals that had come with her were enticing but certainly not necessary. Further, he could tell from Daax's reaction to her return to Missionary the experimental use of her services in the regular rank and file were over with.

In his own near frozen isolation in the damaged space pod, his mind had nothing else to occupy itself but the rehashing of all this, even though he knew all had been said and done and there was nothing for it but to stoke his anger and frustration. He acutely remembered dragging himself to regen, foolishly trying to internally reason his way out of forgoing all those delicious meals. After all the slave was his property and he had a right to enjoy its domestic services if he chose to. He reminded himself that the only time in the twelve years of his very first mission when he had experienced weakness and potential failure was as a result of his introduction to prepared foods. Even as little more than an infant he'd managed to keep his orders in the face of such temptations.

Was this the method Kakarott intended as sabotage? It was hard to tell from the information he had managed to glean from his interrogations. He found that there were necessarily large gaps and incongruities in the information he could get from the salve due to the memory loss associated with her transformations. The most discouraging of these being that she could tell him no more about why she was sent beyond the rendering of her domestic services. He wondered that Freiza hadn't ordered him decommissioned for the lack of information he was able to report on in such a lengthy period. As time wore on, the possibility hung heavier over everything he did like a pall. He couldn't bear even the thought of coming to his end on the floor of that conference room, which was exactly what was going to happen if Lord Freiza declared this odd side mission involving his brother a failure... After the tournament, of course. The Captain had made himself clear.

As it turned out, he barely managed to gather sufficient information because Daax kept him busy in the interval between the Andolonusian mission and the tournament. It was as if the Captain needed to prove that his usefulness had indeed run its course. Under the pretense of the ship being short staffed, he was sent from one tedious world to another, jobs normally reserved for squads of low levels. He could have made extremely quick work of most of them, had there not been orders to preserve infrastructure and the like necessitating that he root out the inhabitants before dispatching them. In between missions, Daax had him on a grueling sparring schedule to "fatten him up," as he put it, for the coming tournament, each session of which pushed the limits of his ability to contain his power to what would be considered a reasonable level. All of which landed him in regen. He disdainfully reflected that he had built up a horrendous level of debt for this. No sooner would he be paid for clearing a world that he would have to spend the credits on regen.

He in turn kept the slave busy writing and filing the necessary reports, the first of which being the Andolonusia mission, which she handled succinctly, omitting mention of pirates and everything but the barest necessities when it came to describing the aftermath of the flu. He found that these reports, including his scornful addition of the preliminary report regarding her own planet, were more than sufficient so he only had to look over them and perhaps add an annotation or two, whether she prepared them in either transformation. Although, those written while in her stronger form were slightly more colorful in their descriptions.

He stripped her of all other duties and had her confined to quarters, but as weeks stretched into months without respite from the viscous cycle, the consumption of general rations interspersed with what he scavenged planet side became nearly intolerable. When he'd finished with the last world in a succession of four conveniently orbiting the same sun, he convinced himself that one decent meal couldn't hurt. He'd kept the distribution of rations for the slave to a minimum. Perhaps he could turn the tables and gain more information using the same methods he suspected were being used against him.

He'd arrived back on ship and detoured to the slave's quarters. Finding it asleep in it's weaker form strengthened his resolve that the breach in his plan to keep it secluded from the rest of the ship would bear fruit. Not seeing the need to spend time rousing it, as per usual he simply stepped in and grabbed a fistful of hair and started dragging.

He didn't have it through the portal before it began screeching and struggling. He had to remember how easily it could be hurt fatally if he wasn't careful. By then it had woken up enough to realize what was happening and followed him docilely of its own accord.

He led it to the galley, empty at the odd hour, and left it to seat himself in the mess assuming his intentions were clear. There was a large glass partition between the two rooms instead of a wall, so he could keep a close eye on her as she worked. Not long after aromas began wafting from the galley that made his mouth water.

She emerged with both arms loaded with heaping trays, set them on the table before him, and then wordlessly made several return trips, ending with a selection of libations. He chose an ale on the basis of quantity and not quality considering the magnitude of what she'd brought him. True to form, she'd prepared a feast as though he'd just returned from conquering a planet full of elite adversaries and not simply having swept away vermin. She acted as if the preceding months of deliberate neglect had never transpired.

She stood at a respectful distance awaiting further instruction as he set to devouring the food and finally broke the silence.

"You are looking well, sir." He paused to glance at her and she quickly cast her eyes away and shifted a little nervously. He returned his attention to the food and she continued. "The doctor said you might be susceptible to regen fatigue as much as you used the chamber lately, but I couldn't imagine someone as hardy and hale as you would need to worry about something like that. I even told her so and pointed out that she had just commented herself on the remarkable strength Saiyajin have.

He looked up again and motioned for her to sit, scantily filling a tray and roughly sliding it across to her along with a small portion of the ale. She hesitated warily only for a moment before setting to it ravenously. She was obviously in the mood to tell him what he wanted to hear already, but he was more interested in truth and decided to test her immediately.

"What were you doing talking to the medical staff?" he asked around a mouth full. "I gave succinct orders regarding you remaining in your quarters."

She desisted again, rightly expecting that he would snatch the food away should she not answer to his satisfaction. "I suppose I had decided to fake being sick, being stuck in that room for so long. It was one of those times when I just found myself there, in medical I mean, and couldn't really remember how it happened..." She glanced up, weighing his reaction. "But I didn't feel sick once I realized where I was, so I asked if it was ok to just go back to my room, but she said that the Captain really wanted information about your condition included in the reports and it would be easier if I just put it in there myself and could she just bring me the data instead of trying to put it in there after the fact..."

She'd clearly gotten ahead of herself in her apprehension and resorted to piling on as many words as possible, something he'd found incredibly irritating in the past but perhaps worthy of using towards his ends in this case.

"...and really I must warn you, if I may, I think that I am prone to getting into trouble during those times I can't remember, especially if boredom is involved." She checked his reaction again, took a couple more bites seeing that she was allowed, before adding, "n-not that I actually remember anything. I'm only just guessing."

"Am I to assume that Kakarott subjected you to similar boredom often, then?"

"He traded me to the old master for training pretty much right away. The turtle guy was OK, but he was always trying to cop a feel and stuff like that. I mean -always-. So I had to be on my toes every minute. I don't think I had a chance to be bored." She had slowed down eating by now, her initial hunger sated. The spill of words had also slowed to an acceptable pace, and she seemed comfortable enough now to speak to him casually and without apprehension.

"I guess I would have shot him for it... actually I guess I did because I remember finding bullet holes in the walls all the time, but he was too strong for that to have actually hurt him."

He'd heard her talk about the old master, or "turtle guy" before, but this was the first he'd heard of any kind of trade taking place. He also had assumed that any part the man had to play in things would have been negligible, using her power as an indication of what the race might posses as a whole. But now she revealed that he was strong enough to render her weapons ineffectual, enough that Kakarott would see the need to trade his property for training from the man.

"If you weren't with Kakarott all that time, how is it that he decided to send you here?" the irritation he felt at these new bits of information that resolved nothing and only confused things further must have shown, because she was quick to amend her statement, the nervousness creeping back into her voice.

"Oh, it wasn't like I wasn't with him... I mean he was around all the time for his training, so I was cooking for all of them and we all moved in to Kame House and I was keeping house for everyone too." She raised her glass and gulped as though to wash down the words, and picked at what was left on the tray, obviously finding a portion of it unpalatable, as he responded to this.

"Everyone?" The new revelation had given him pause in clearing his own tray. "How many others trained under this master while Kakarott was there?"

"Just the one other guy." Her cheeks had taken on a ruddy glow and he suddenly remembered that she never touched alcoholic drinks while in the weaker transformation and noted that her glass was empty at this point. "But Kame House was so very small. In fact there weren't even enough futons so your brother and I had to share one."

He felt a flash of unwanted jealousy that he was unable to disguise. "You told me before that you only rendered domestic services to Kakarott!"

Instead of starting at his outburst she giggled. "Oh it wasn't like that, silly. He was still just a little kid..."

"And when he was no longer a child?" His voice had taken on something of a growling undertone, but she appeared not to notice. He told himself it was because she'd had the nerve to refer to him as "silly" and that the turn his questions had taken were actually irrelevant. Further, she'd managed to avoid answering the original question.

"Well, by that time he'd been off training with God, and it's not like just anybody could have gone up to the heavens with him so..."

He knew he should have gotten back on track with his questions, but the next came without his even thinking about it. "And during that time, the Old Man? This other you speak of?"

She giggled again. "Kurirrin? He probably would've given his left arm for a chance but he and the old guy wouldn't have forced me into something like that if I didn't want it..."

"Did you?"

She responded to this with a burst of full on laughter. "Of course not! I stayed around there because it was as good as anywhere to be I guess, and I wanted to see what Go-um-Kakarott got out of his training when he came back... Now that you mention it, he turned out real handsome and all grown up by the time he got back, but he showed up just in time for the tournament and right after that he got married and..."

"Wait. Are you telling me that my brother actually -married- some native female!" His voice rose considerably, but he was unable to reign in his incredulity.

She abruptly seemed to notice his state of agitation. All mirth drained from her features suddenly. "Oh dear... I suppose I should explain. That woman, I think she kind of tricked him into it. I mean, she even entered the tournament and fought him. They say she's the strongest woman on the planet, actually, but she lost, and I guess he did it anyway just because she had the guts to challenge him..."

Finally, something that made sense.

"...but I don't really think he knew what he was getting into. I mean, he's like you with stuff like that. Not really interested, you know?" She reached across the table and touched his hand as though to allay his anger. He jerked away, but not before letting it linger there for part of a moment.

He decided then that it was best to lay aside the part of the story concerning Kakarott's wife and get back to the heart of the matter. "But why did he send you here?"

"I'm really sorry, but I don't rightly know. You'll have to ask me when I'm... different. Somebody made me sneeze right after the tournament started, and I don't remember much after that, except waking up here."

"Surely," he began to stand up, his patience waning having hit the same brick wall he'd encountered so many times before, "there is some small bit of information you remember regarding your presence in his pod and subsequent arrival here." he leaned towards her menacingly and the familiar look of trepidation, nearly a kind of awe, crawled over her face haltingly, as though the effects of the ale were subsiding in small increments, leaving her with the realization that he wasn't feeding her and conversing with her in some ridiculous effort to be nice.

"Really, please," she scooted back in her chair in some pretense that she might duck away from him if need be, "if I could remember anything about it I'd tell you. Maybe I will if I change, but I don't know. I only know I do bad things during the times I can't remember stuff."

All of a sudden she sat up straight, almost haughtily, and stared directly into his eyes. "I know you make me do horrible things when I change," she declared, gravely. "I saw what was left of the places you sent me more than once."

It was his turn to laugh. The sudden show of arrogance amused him, but he didn't back off any. In fact, he took the opportunity to move in closer, placing his hands upon the table to lean over it farther and causing several of the dishes stacked there to clatter to the floor. "You just now finished telling me you do bad things in your stronger form. I didn't have to make you do any of that," he couldn't help but grin approvingly, "you approached the whole business with relish. I am told your savagery is something of a minor legend within the ranks of the infantry as a matter of fact. I can't believe that Kakarott was not taking advantage of your particular talents similarly."

She shrank back down into the seat a little. "Maybe. But I'm sure I hadn't done anything as bad as that before you."

She was still avoiding the question. He sat back down slowly, thinking that he might find some way of mentally flanking her diversions as he'd tried intimidation so many times before unsuccessfully.

"I really can't see what's so bad about it anyway. Cleaning a place up so that it's all nice and tidy for those more deserving. It's only business, the very nature of civilization."

"Civilization!" she looked aghast despite herself, "how can you believe that...?"

"Yet for some reason, my brother seems to have deemed you and your ilk as members of the deserving few. Enough to have gone against his primary orders. Why is that, do you think?"

"I... I really couldn't say." She stumbled over the words. It was as if he could see her trying to piece together what might have been her thought process in her stronger form. "He never told us he had orders." She said this with finality, as though it explained away everything that didn't quite add up and put a close to the subject.

But he wasn't finished and pressed on, finding another line of questioning to keep her talking. "Perhaps these other warriors you speak of were powerful enough to contest him?"

"Oh, no. Even the King of Demons and God himself fought in that tournament and he beat them all. I think a lot of them didn't really know what to make of how strong he was. If we knew he was from another planet that might have explained a lot actually."

"You told me before that he killed off the best of the warriors your world had to offer, as a means of terrorizing the populace. Now you're telling me that several were present at this tournament, right up until the point that you were sent to what was Vegetasei. Pray tell, which of these is the version of things I am supposed to believe?"

"But he did kill them. It's just some of them came back."

"Came back? From being dead? How is that even possible?" he stood again, this time sweeping away the table between them and all its contents in one motion. "I tire of you filling in the blanks of your account with utter nonsense!" She paled, but remained in her chair, gripping the sides as though it were a lifeboat in a raging sea.

"Please! Please don't. I've told you everything I know about it. Your brother, he never explained to anybody why he did the things he did..." She was in a panic again, biting at her lower lip in an effort to quell the tears already shining in her eyes, a habit he knew she'd taken up in order to assuage him when he was at his angriest. He'd seen a mere private harass and work her up into hysterics within minutes in this weaker form, but she'd come to give him difference and put in an effort to at least delay falling to pieces.

For himself he knew that she had pressed the limits of his control and it was unlikely he could continue without things ending fatally for her if not nearly.

"There are methods of torture I have not yet considered in light of your apparent frailty. Perhaps I should give thought to them at this impasse." For some reason the statement brought to mind Zarbon and his menagerie of frozen rarities. Trapped in partial stasis his stomach rolled thinking of it again even on derivative terms. At a point in the past, he, Nappa and Vegeta, having to report directly to Freiza on Planet 79 were given an exclusive albeit impromptu tour of "the facility". He'd gotten the distinct feeling that Zarbon intended to make him part of the collection housed there some day. All at once the slave took on the earmarks of some rare and delicate curiosity and he felt a strong rush of protectiveness toward it that he struggled to squelch, both in memory and in the present confines of the pod.

Having lost his patience for the whole exercise, he ordered her to put the mess and galley to rights and found another seat to try and relax in while he waited. He certainly had no intention of leaving her anywhere without being under strict watch, preferably his own. He put finding the guard that had let her out of isolation to go to medical on the top of his mental list of things to do. He'd decided to work off some of his irritation on the training decks, and a live target might be just the thing he needed.

As he watched her move about picking things up he noted that she was highly efficient in at least that regard... After a little while, the image blurred, splitting into two of her, one slightly superimposed upon the other. He realized suddenly he felt horribly weary as he blinked, snapping the two back into one. For the next few minutes he fought to keep his eyes open, considering that he might be suffering from a hint of regen fatigue after all, or perhaps having too much ale on top of a full stomach had got the better of him.

He must have lost the battle because the next thing he knew he stirred, finding the mess empty and clean, dimly aware of some clatter and what could have been hushed voices emanating from the galley. He got up and went to investigate, finding the slave there in her stronger form, putting up what looked be be the last of a collection of pots and pans into one of the lockers.

"Who're you talking to?" he grumbled, the words slurring slightly.

"Nobody here but us chickens," she responded cheerily, swinging the locker door shut with a slam and turning to pick up a half full bottle of ale sitting on one of the counters. He scanned the room and seeing no one else there immediately, he let the issue drop, forgoing a thorough search that somehow seemed like too much effort for him to expend at the moment.

"Hey, don't worry about it, OK? I figured I was supposed to tidy up here and you couldn't have been out for more than a moment or two. The only thing I did that might not have been kosher was helping myself to some of these stray bottles, and I got chits to cover it." She finished off the bottle and deposited it into the refuse hatch with an aggrandized toss. "It's not as if you've given me the chance to spend them lately," she added, scoffing slightly. "So what's on the docket? Hopefully something more interesting than recent fare... Ya know, I wasn't ever really cracked up for all this office work you keep sending."

"You'll return to quarters immediately," he said simply. He knew he ought to resume interrogations now that she had transformed, but found he just couldn't muster the patience for it. She consented to this surprisingly without much dissent, mentioning as he escorted her that it sure was a good thing the Captain had proffered her larger accommodations "way back when."

Arriving at said accommodations he pushed her through the portal and informed her that she probably only had them because the Captain expected she would've been killed shortly after joining the infantry. With that he shut and locked the hatch on her sour expression and returned to his own room.

He'd meant to check the logs so that he could identify which of the remaining infantry had been responsible for keeping tabs on the slave, but the sight of his mattress suddenly brought on a wave of tiredness that he couldn't quite shake. He retrieved the scouter and started scrolling through the manifests. After a short time the whole thing felt like a weighty affair that he could leave off until he got some decent rest. No sooner had he sat on the bed and set the scouter aside then his eyes slid shut again. For some unapparent reason the phrase "why, them's long odds, darlin'" whisked through his mind in a scratchy refrain, then "ya' know I'm good for it." This last came in what he was almost sure was the voice of the transformed slave. He could have sworn that she actually occupied the room and had said this at his bedside. He sat up swiftly to look for her, or thought he did, then realized that the room was in utter darkness although he hadn't killed the lighting.

He grasped at this thought for a moment, then only latched on to the fact that it felt as if something were missing. He groped his mind for what. What had he ever wanted for besides the promise of a good contest of strength and ample food afterward? The answer came presently. The measured sound of the shunting of warm blood through delicate veins... As he thought of it more words came: "please, please don't..." he unconsciously discerned that the slave had just said this in response to his threatening her, but this time they were his words though he hadn't said anything... But she heard them, he was sure of this as much as he was suddenly aware of her presence, this time in her weaker transformation, her sinuous form rising above him and coaxing ecstasy without his warrant. Drawing climax from him as steadily as one would pull thread from fleece.

At this he shot bolt upright, wide awake and aware, the standard lights stinging his eyes in the empty room, his nerves momentarily jangled. He cast about for the scouter and checked the time stamp, seeing with horror that he'd been out for a full nine hour cycle and the Captain was expecting him for a spar within the next ten minutes. The threat of decommission loomed. "Fuck!" he swore, the word echoing about his empty quarters like a portent as he rushed out, thankful that he'd lain down fully armored.

This episode was the start of his conviction that the slave possibly possessed some charming ability. Such things were rare, but had been documented before. He found more and more often that she pervaded his thoughts without warning, usually at the most inopportune times. He continually felt restless, unfulfilled, despite the fact that he was getting in more training than ever.

He researched all manner of torture methods in what little spare time he had, and found that most would result in some kind of permanent damage even though he intended to subject the slave to such things in her stronger form. There were a few possible options available to him nonetheless. He reasoned that he owed her at least a session or two after what she'd done to him on Andolonusia, even if he didn't get any useful information out of it. In one instance he was sitting at a holo terminal in a thankfully empty section of the ship intently looking over the information when the slave inexplicably wandered in and tossed herself into the chair next to him.

"Wat'cha lookin' at?" she asked genially as if there was nothing strange about her being out of her quarters against his order. She pressed in to get a look at the screen over his shoulder.

Before he even uttered the first word, she was pointing at the screen and making all kinds of exclamations about what was displayed there.

"Oooooh! Simulated drowning. That's one heck of a huckleberry from what I've heard... And that one there, with the fingernails. Ouch! Nasty!" She was noisily chewing something and punctuated her verbal observations with a couple of loud pops.

"What? What the hell is in your mouth?" There was so much wrong with the fact that she was even there in the first place, he hardly knew where to start.

"Gum. I didn't know they had gum here! The bartender guy traded me for a couple of chits. Tastes kinda' strong like licorice, and I never really liked licorice but I'm outta' smokes so... Brain defribulation?" she pointed at the screen again. "What the fuck is that?"

"You'll find out sooner rather than later if you don't move out of my way and shut your trap."

She eased back down into the seat, crossed her arms over her chest and pouted at him.

"Which one of those imbeciles let you out of isolation this time?"

Looking at him incredulously, she shrugged and popped the gum a couple of times.

He grabbed the a fistful of the front of her uniform and shook as roughly as he thought he could get away with without causing major damage. "Which one?"

Her eyes widened a little bit but she appeared mostly unfazed. "Settle down. You just now told me to shut up. Geez!"

He jerked her out of the seat so that she was practically nose to nose with him. "Which. One."

"Honestly I couldn't tell you. That bunch you have on guard duty, they all look the same to me and it's not like they tell me their names or anything."

"You know dispatching the last one came out of my pay. But I reasoned it was worth it." He pushed her back down into the chair.

"No shit?" she pulled at her displaced collar and let it snap back into place, but not before brashly displaying an ample amount of cleavage. "No wonder it was so much harder this time. They really make you pay for that? What assholes. You shouldn't put up with that sort of thing. Surely you could lodge a complaint?..."

"The only complaint I have is that you are blatantly disobeying my orders!" He clicked the screen off and got up, hauling her with him, and started back to her quarters.

"Hey now! Damn!" She struggled to keep up with him despite the awkward grip he had on her hair. "I can take a hint... I just wanted to catch you before you went off on this next thing and ask about the tournament..." She trailed off as it was painfully obvious he wasn't going to respond, but it was hardly a moment before she added, "actually, you should take me with you. I'm about stir crazy..."

"Good."

They arrived at her room and he pushed her over the threshold.

"Aren't you at least going to tell me whose brain you're going to defribulate?"

He shot her a pointed look.

"Oh." She frowned slightly. "You know you don't have to go to all that trouble. You could just come by here and ask whatever it is you wanna know." She sighed. "We never talk anymore. You never call or write... I thought surely you'd at least write after I left you that message in the last report. I even put a smiley face in there for you."

He shut the door, locking and then double checking it. As he strode down the hall he saw a guard coming the other way, probably picking up the next shift. When the guard saw him it stopped, performing a stiff salute. He hauled off and punched it in the gut and then proceeded to beat it to death, depositing the bloody heap in front of her door. He could only hope someone would get the message.

The next mission was another wearisome exercise in flushing out pests. He considered it bliss compared to what he just left.

He returned and after some avoidance visited the slave's quarters to see if he could in fact get some information without going to much trouble. She claimed that she had no idea why Kakarott decided to cast her into his possession. For all his gruff demeanor, she appeared happy just to have some company.

"He's the strongest thing on the planet. He didn't have to tell us anything he didn't want to," she explained. "You probably wouldn't either. Admit it."

After that she regaled him with a tale of Kakarott completely annihilating one of the world's most powerful armies. She said that it took him less time to do it than it took for she and the other warriors she'd talked about before to travel to the site, and that it had been a bloodthirsty affair that shocked any dissenting populace into submission.

"Look," she continued, "I can't tell you what he was on about having me come here. Maybe he found out your planet got destroyed and just wanted to let you know he was still around. Like I said, he never even told us about you, or the Trade, or anything like that. You might get there and he's ok with signing up here but I doubt it. Most likely he's going to serve you a beating and if you're lucky, send you on your way."

He laughed at the notion. "Whatever training he's had it couldn't possibly meet the standards of that which I received on Vegetasei. Judging from you, your world hardly sustains enough gravity for him to break a sweat in the first place. What makes you think he can deliver a trouncing taking that into account?"

"It's just how things turn out with him. Every time. Trust me."

"I trust that he won't discount his Saiyajin heritage in such a way. One cannot denounce blood so easily."

"I still think you should have left this outfit when you had the chance."

After that he decided if he wanted any more information he would have to escalate to torture, but he kept putting it off. There always happened to be something of more immediate importance for him to attend to, and after the ultimatum he'd left on her doorstep she remained in quarters without incident.

The next thing he knew the ship docked on Planet 75 and what was left of the crew were making preparations for the tournament. He hadn't even had the chance to consider actually placing a bet on himself though at that point his finances, for what little he cared about them, were in absolute shambles. He wound up winning his bout only because his curiosity begged that it could even be done. And he'd hoped to buoy his mood which the slave had managed to embitter by mentioning something that reminded him of his father. This and the fact that he'd had to field several private purchase offers that were sent through his scouter while he waited in the Pit for his match, some of them complete with shamelessly lewd overtones under the assumption that she was recreational property.

He might have taken some pride in the fact that so many others wanted what he had, some of them willing to part with a very healthy sum of credits to that end, but this only served to dampen his spirits further... And further still in the palpability that he shouldn't have cared less about it one way or the other. The feeling only shifted to fury when Zarbon showed some interest in the slave, and then a simmering malignancy when Nappa picked up where Zarbon had left off.

Of course he'd never expected Nappa to be the one to catch on to his elevated power level. He'd planned to reveal the technique to Vegeta at a later date. It was no secret that the Prince was disconsolate in his role with the Trade. He certainly expected Vegeta to stage some kind of rebellion in the future. He staunchly believed it was only a matter of time before the Prince attained enough power to do it. He counted on being of some use to his Prince when the time came.

Now he would most likely have to divulge how to use the ki dampening technique as soon as Vegeta caught up with him as he couldn't imagine that Nappa hadn't gone and blabbed about it. How else would he have explained the lacerations he ended up with across his face? Claiming that a lower class warrior was responsible for them was bad enough, he couldn't possibly have admitted that he received them from a mere slave.

The fact that the slave had been able to do such a thing was just another vexing mystery to top all the rest of it. The careless way in which he'd tried to get to the bottom of it had been a huge error fueled by his untoward attraction and feelings of jealousy. He'd put hardly a rational thought into it and gotten nothing out of it. And then, he couldn't help himself but to prematurely go look in on her even after berating himself for his weakness in the matter. The very sight of her laying there asleep, completely unclothed, cheeks tearstained, lips turning an unnatural shade of blue from the cold air emanating from the climate control was enough to bring every one of his irrational feelings bubbling back up.

He'd found himself staring slack jawed at her, trying to come to to terms with it all on the one hand and on the other considering completely throwing his will to the wind for a repeat performance of what had just transpired in his own quarters. He covered her in the hopes of gaining some sense of rationality, but it didn't help at all. The image burned in the back of his mind and somehow he knew that forevermore it would stay, regardless of what happened.

He practically fled back to his room and sat down at his desk, uncontrollable waves of emotion he couldn't even put a name to rolling through him. He saw the discarded collar laying where he'd left it and the waves broke in a stream of fury. Somehow he stopped himself from discharging enough ki to blast through the hull of the the ship. When he was finished he'd destroyed everything in the room, which was several times larger as that included some of the walls. Fuck it. He'd been on "good behavior" and it was time he got an upgrade in living arrangements, whether the Captain had ordered them or not.

And then his scouter chirped an audible. Said Captain had sent for him.

He sat on the floor of the despoiled room and forced his breathing to slow and reached for the tiny well of stillness he knew was there somewhere, shunting the thought of where he'd learned the technique to the very back of his consciousness. He couldn't tell how long he'd stayed there before answering the summons.

The Captain was having a grand old time and didn't even mention his failure to respond immediately. He sat in his place on the bridge, brazenly allowing two females he must have picked up on 75 to drape themselves over either side of him as he swilled wine directly from a bottle.

He welcomed the Sub Commander with genuine jocularity. Raditzu noted that the two females were a bizarre emulation of Freiza's retinue. He realized all of a sudden that he was looking at a man probably ten times the richer than before the tournament.

Yes, fine. The damage to the barracks could be overlooked. Of course he was deserving of better living arrangements. The shortage of infantry could be easily remedied when they docked on 599Xi. Have a drink! Hard work paid off in spades! Have another!

By the time he left the Captain's presence he had a major case of the spins and had agreed to disembark across the rift to reach Chikyuu before the main ship. The Captain having promised him full market value for the world if he had it cleared, enlisted Kakarott and returned before the ship could travel half way around the rift. "What's wrong with another gentlemanly wager?" Daax had crowed.

After having slept it off, Raditzu felt a little more himself and made plans to simply break the slave by chemical means as the med tech had originally suggested. He went to retrieve the narcotics and was informed that they had already been put to some use. "Such things are habit forming," the tech explained abashedly. But he could procure more, as much as he wanted, when they docked with the space station.

He didn't think he had struck the slave so hard, really. At first it didn't look like he'd done any damage at all, then she'd coughed up a copious amount of blood and transformed. Her screams had echoed down the ship's corridors as he carried her to medical, her tiny hands gripping at the front of his armor as she begged him not to let go.

He couldn't afford regen for himself let alone her at that point, but of course there'd been an entire satchel of contraband left in her room he could trade for painkillers in some hope that the the med tech could perform traditional surgery.

She had marked him for a patsy from the moment she arrived on ship, to the very moment she left it. As he felt the meager warmth of Sol upon entering its system and the network of ice crystals that had had formed in his eyeballs retreating, all he could do was laugh.

"Well played," he thought. "Well played."