That was the cold logic of it. From the Galactic Patrol's perspective, a Saiyan infant was a bio-weapon, a seed of future planetary devastation. Eliminating Kakarot was simply following protocol. Rhode recalled the finer details: it was only Dr. Mashirito's (Dr. Daisheng's) and Tights' intervention—showing Jaco the compassion and potential of Earthlings—that stayed his hand from a full planetary purge. And the reason Kakarot survived at all was almost comically bureaucratic: Jaco's mission logs showed he hadn't witnessed the Saiyan pod's landing, so he considered the job incomplete and aborted it. The fate of a planet and its future hero, hinging on a clerical oversight. The irony was thick enough to make Rhode shake his head internally.
"Oh, by the way, Rhode," Dr. Brief's voice cut through his thoughts, "where is Aira? I haven't seen her."
Little Bulma piped up beside him, her curiosity evident.
"She's still in training," Rhode replied easily. "She'll return when she's finished." With her power and Instant Transmission, she was more than capable of handling herself, barring an encounter with a true cosmic deity.
Dr. Brief accepted this with a nod, but Bulma let out a dramatic huff. "What a heartless guy!" she muttered under her breath, already vowing to herself that her future prince would be far more attentive and caring.
"What was that?" Rhode asked, catching her mumble.
"Nothing!" Bulma snapped, turning to her father. "Dad, when are we going to see Big Sis? And that alien… I wonder if he has a tail like Rhode's?"
Rhode blinked. "You haven't seen him yet?"
Both Briefs looked at him, puzzled. "No. Why?"
"Is there no… video communication on Earth yet?" Rhode asked, a bit thrown.
"Video communication?" they echoed in unison.
"A way to talk face-to-face over a distance, seeing each other on a screen."
"No!"
The synchronized denial made Rhode pause. With their level of genius, such technology should have been trivial. What a strangely specific gap in their development, he mused. Well, no matter. I'm sure they'll invent it by next week now that I've mentioned it.
Just then, a cheerful, melodic voice rang out. "Darling! Everything's packed! When are we leaving?"
Mrs. Brief approached, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of a potential alien encounter. Then her gaze landed on Rhode. Her pace quickened instantly. "Oh my! What a dashing young man! And who might you be?" Before he could react, she had looped her arm through his, beaming up at him.
"Um…" Rhode stiffened, awkwardly extracting his arm and shooting a helpless look at Dr. Brief, who merely chuckled, clearly well-accustomed to his wife's… enthusiastic greetings.
"Mom! That's Rhode!" Bulma declared, hands on her hips.
"What?" Mrs. Brief's smile turned to wide-eyed astonishment as she looked Rhode up and down. "But it's only been a little over a year! You've grown so much!"
"Ah, haha… special circumstances," Rhode managed, scratching the back of his head.
Dr. Brief smoothly stepped in. "My wife was just asking when we're leaving to see that alien friend of Tights'. Would you care to join us, Rhode? I'll be piloting my new anti-gravity flyer." He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to a good-natured, conspiratorial whisper. "And if anything goes wrong… you'll save us, right?"
"Since I have nothing else to do, I'll tag along," Rhode agreed with a nod. He was going regardless of the invitation. Beyond satisfying his curiosity about the Galactic Patrolman, he was keen to meet the eccentric Dr. Mashirito—the mind behind time travel itself. That was a genius worth observing up close.
With Rhode's agreement secured, Dr. Brief clapped his hands together in delight before scurrying off to his workshop. Moments later, a sleek vehicle, roughly the size of a small helicopter but lacking any visible rotors, glided silently over the lawn and settled onto the grass with a soft hum.
"This," Dr. Brief announced, stepping out with palpable pride, "is the anti-gravity flyer. Its propulsion system utilizes a modulated gravitational field, negating inertial resistance through a phased polarity inversion of..." He launched into a technical explanation that quickly spiraled into a jargon-filled lecture about field harmonics and exotic particle emissions. Rhode nodded along politely, understanding perhaps one word in five.
As the doctor expounded, Mrs. Brief efficiently directed a couple of house androids to load an assortment of carefully wrapped gifts into the flyer's spacious cabin. Soon, they were all aboard, and the vessel lifted off with a near-silent thrum, banking eastward.
The flyer's pace was leisurely, a stark contrast to Rhode's usual methods of travel. He found himself gazing out the window, watching the tapestry of Earth scroll by—lush forests, winding rivers, and mist-shrouded mountain ranges. It was a perspective he rarely afforded himself, usually moving too fast to see or simply teleporting past it all. There was a strange, quiet novelty in it.
Several hours later, following the coordinates Tights had provided, the flyer descended toward a secluded, forested island in the ocean, not far from the Eastern Capital. Three figures were waiting on the rocky shore: an elderly man with a wild shock of white hair, a young woman with flowing golden locks under a knit cap, and a compact, silver-suited figure with a distinctive helmet that gave him an almost comical, toy-like appearance.
"Dr. Brief! Thank you for making the journey!" The old man—Dr. Mashirito (Daisheng)—stepped forward, vigorously shaking Brief's hand.
"Ah! You must be the alien!" Dr. Brief exclaimed, peering at the elderly scientist with keen interest.
"No, no! I am Dr. Mashirito!"
"Mashirito? Ah! The authority on spacetime theory! An honor!"
"You are too kind!"
Rhode watched the slightly muddled introduction with mild amusement. They're both brilliant, yet they can't even get the basic introductions right.
While the scientists conversed, Bulma, still clutching her energy gun, barreled past them. "Sis!" she cried, launching herself at the young woman—Tights.
"Bulma! Look at you!" Tights laughed, easily scooping her little sister up in a hug.
Behind them, Mrs. Brief approached with her armful of gifts. "Tights, darling! Are you eating properly?"
"Mom! I'm fine!" Tights greeted her mother before her eyes inevitably drifted to the tall, unfamiliar young man standing slightly apart. Her expression grew quizzical. "Mom... who is this?"
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