Hearing her daughter's question, Mrs. Brief cheerfully pulled Rhode forward. "Oh, Tights, this is Rhode! He's an alien too, you know!"
"Huh?" Tights' jaw went slack, her eyes wide as dinner plates. An alien too? Had this remote island somehow become a cosmic crossroads? First Jaco, now this impossibly handsome young man? Aliens were supposed to be the stuff of pulp magazines, not guests at a family gathering!
Recovering her composure, Tights offered a curious, slightly wary smile. "Hello, I'm Tights."
"Rhode," he replied with a polite nod.
"Oh! And Jaco, this is—" Tights turned, intending to formally introduce the Galactic Patrolman, only to find empty space where the silver-suited figure had been standing moments before. "Huh? Where did Jaco go? He was right here!"
She scanned the shoreline, utterly baffled. Why would he just disappear?
Tights was confused, but Rhode understood perfectly. The moment he had stepped onto the island, he'd felt the spike of panic in Jaco's small, bright ki signature. The boastful Patrolman had taken one look at the adult Saiyan and decided that discretion was the better part of valor, inching backward before making a break for it while everyone was distracted.
BANG!
The sound of thrusters igniting cut through the air. Everyone looked up to see Jaco's roughly ten-meter-long spacecraft lurch unsteadily into the sky from behind a rocky outcropping.
"What is he doing?!" Tights cried out, exasperated. "The ship's repairs aren't finished! He can't possibly make it back to headquarters like that!"
Rhode merely chuckled. "He might be feeling a bit… anxious. I'll go have a word with him."
Before anyone could respond, he vanished. He reappeared directly in the path of the ascending ship, planting a single, outstretched hand against its nose. The vessel shuddered to an immediate, groaning halt, its engines straining uselessly against his immovable strength.
Peering through the transparent canopy at the horrified Patrolman inside, Rhode spoke, his voice calm but carrying clearly. "Jaco. You don't want anything to happen to your nice ship, do you?"
"Mmm-hmm-hmm~!" Jaco nodded frantically, his helmet bobbing up and down like a bobblehead.
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Jaco's mind screamed. An adult Saiyan! On this pathetic, backwater, barbaric rock! My luck is the worst in the galaxy! He was already mentally drafting his resignation letter to the Galactic King.
"Good," Rhode said. "Now, land it. Gently. And don't even think about trying that again."
With a thought, he released his hold. Jaco, knowing he was utterly outmatched, had no choice but to comply. The spacecraft descended awkwardly and settled back onto the rocky shore with a defeated sigh of hydraulics.
By the time the hatch hissed open and a sheepish Jaco emerged, Tights and the others had caught up.
"So this is an alien?" Dr. Brief mused, peering at Jaco's distinctly non-human features. "He's quite different from Rhode and Aira!"
Mrs. Brief and Bulma shared looks of fascinated curiosity.
"Jaco!" Tights marched up to him, hands on her hips. "What was that about? The ship isn't ready!"
"Uh… well, you see… that is…" Jaco stammered, desperately trying to save face. He couldn't admit he'd been scared witless and tried to flee.
Seeing his struggle, Rhode offered an explanation with a casual wave of his hand. "It's like this. My race… doesn't have the best reputation in the wider universe. Jaco probably saw me and instinctively thought about calling for Galactic Patrol backup. Standard protocol, I'm sure."
"Ha! Haha! Yes! Exactly! Protocol!" Jaco latched onto the excuse with the desperation of a drowning man, though his voice was tight with nervous energy.
Bulma's sharp eyes darted between the terrified alien and the completely unruffled Rhode. A mischievous, knowing glint sparked in them. She poked Rhode in the side, her voice dripping with exaggerated suspicion. "Hey, Rhode… you're not some kind of universe-class super bad guy, are you?"
Whether it was during the months he'd lived with them or on his brief return, Rhode had always been gentle and approachable. Bulma had unconsciously filed him away in the 'good guy' category of her young mind. But the sight of this supposed 'Galactic Patrol super-elite' trembling like a leaf in Rhode's presence sent her juvenile conspiracy theories into overdrive. At her age, thoughts and words were one and the same.
"Hey, Rhode... you're not some kind of universe-class super bad guy, are you?" she blurted out, her tone more accusatory than fearful.
Dr. and Mrs. Brief simply smiled, their life experience giving them a far clearer read on character. They saw the playful glint in Rhode's eye.
Seeing her serious, scrunched-up face, Rhode's expression shifted. He leaned down, his features contorting into a theatrical, cartoonish villainy. "Hehe! You've discovered my secret!"
His voice dropped to a menacing growl. "In the vast cosmos, I am known as the Child-Eater! Ten little morsels like you for an appetizer before every main course!" He wiggled his fingers menacingly. "And see this planet? I could make it go BOOM with a snap of my fingers! Tremble, little one!"
The adults watched the performance with amused smiles. Jaco, however, was not in on the joke. He trembled violently, his silver suit rattling. To him, the 'Child-Eater' part was hyperbole, but the casual planet-destruction? That was standard Saiyan operating procedure. The fear was very, very real.
Little Bulma, the intended target, merely rolled her eyes with supreme disdain. "Pfft! Liar! I'm not a baby!" She saw right through his act.
"Ah, too bad," Rhode sighed, his villainous facade melting away into a rueful smile. Sometimes having a super-genius for a brain really ruins the fun of being a kid, he thought. Then he caught himself. Wait, by most standards, I'm practically a kid too. Hah.
While Rhode had been teasing Bulma, Tights had managed to properly introduce Jaco to her parents and explain the spacecraft's malfunction. At Dr. Mashirito's urging, the group began moving toward the modest island residence.
Rhode, however, hung back, his hand coming to rest on Jaco's shoulder with a grip that was friendly in appearance only. A subtle, controlled pressure—a whisper of his true power—settled over the Patrolman, enough to freeze him in place without the others noticing.
Leaning in, Rhode's voice was low and devoid of its earlier playfulness. "Jaco. A question for the Galactic Patrol's 'super-elite.' Do you have an operative named Merus?"