Double chapter release today since I'm feeling generous, enjoy!
Repay me with the bloody stones!
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Nappa stopped at the intersection of the corridors. The floor here was polished obsidian, reflecting the harsh overhead lights, but the mud dripping from my boots smeared the pristine surface.
He didn't drag me all the way to the barracks. He let go of my collar, letting me drop to my feet. He sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"You smell like a sewer rat," Nappa grunted, looking down at me. "And you smell like fear. It's making me nauseous."
I straightened my jumpsuit, keeping my eyes low. "I apologize, Commander. The interrogation cells were... unhygienic."
Nappa snorted. It was a wet, ugly sound. "I don't want you stinking up my ship today. We have a pre-deployment briefing, and if the air scrubbers have to work overtime because of you, I'll throw you out the airlock."
He pointed a massive finger toward the exit ramp.
"Go home. Wash yourself. Say goodbye to your mommy."
I froze. "Sir?"
"You heard me," Nappa said, turning his back and scratching his neck. "Report to Hangar 4 at dawn tomorrow. We ship out for the perimeter check. And Runt? If you're late, I eat you."
He walked away, his heavy cape swishing behind him.
I stood there for a moment, watching him go.
It wasn't kindness. I knew Nappa's file. I knew his personality. He wasn't giving me a day off because he cared about my mental health. He was giving me a day off because he was certain I wasn't coming back from the mission.
This was a "dead man walking" reprieve. He expected me to be cannon fodder, a distraction to absorb a few blaster bolts before dying. He was giving me time to set my affairs in order so he wouldn't have to deal with my ghost haunting his conscience, not that he had much of one.
"Understood," I whispered to the empty hallway.
I turned and headed for the exit.
If he gave me time, I would use it.
The Iron District hadn't changed, but it felt different.
Maybe it was because I had spent the last week in the scented, silk-draped halls of Zarbon's quarters, or maybe it was because I was walking to my own funeral. The smog felt heavier, tasting of sulfur and desperation. The noise of the crushing machines sounded like a death knell.
I reached our housing unit. The door hissed open before I could touch the panel.
Karr was standing there.
He wasn't wearing his armor. He was in his under-suit, scars visible on his arms. He looked at me, then at the royal crest on the datapad I was holding, my transfer orders.
"The Guard was here," Karr said. His voice wasn't angry. It was flat. "They asked if you were selling secrets to the lizards."
"I wasn't," I said, stepping inside.
"I know," Karr grunted. "You're too careful for that."
The room was a mess.
In the center of the floor, Lett was... playing.
My baby brother, now out of the tank and barely a few months old, was hovering three feet in the air. He was holding a solid durasteel table leg in his mouth, chewing on it like a teething ring. The metal groaned and bent under the pressure of his jaws.
"Gah!" Lett shrieked, spotting me.
He didn't crawl. He launched.
He flew across the room with the grace of a cannonball, slamming into the wall next to my head. A small crater appeared in the plaster. A spark of green Ki sneezed out of his nose, scorching the paint.
Lett's Power Level: Around the 100s.
One hundred. As an infant. A chaotic, drooling ball of destruction.
"He's active," I noted, stepping around the debris.
"He's a menace," Sela said. She was at the sink, washing blood off a combat knife. She turned to look at me. Her eyes were dark, ringed with exhaustion.
She wiped her hands and walked over. I braced myself for a lecture. Or a slap. Or a demand for credits.
Instead, she reached out and touched my shoulder.
Her hand was rough, calloused from years of butchering meat, but the touch was gentle. It was so unexpected that I almost flinched.
"The Guards asked if you were loyal," Sela said quietly. "I told them you were too smart to be a traitor. Don't prove me wrong, Cress."
I looked at her. I looked at Karr.
There was no warmth in their eyes. There was no love, not in the human sense. But there was something else.
Pity.
They knew Nappa. Everyone knew Nappa. He was a meat-grinder commander. They looked at me and saw a corpse. They weren't angry that I had been promoted; they were resigned to the fact that their investment in me had finally expired.
Karr walked over to the pantry. He pulled out a small, foil-wrapped package.
"Here," he said, shoving it into my chest.
It was a high-grade nutrient bar. Military issue. The kind they saved for purge nights.
"Nappa's squad..." Karr rumbled, looking away. "They are butchers. They don't use tactics. They just overwhelm. If the fighting starts... stay behind the big ones. Let them take the hits."
I stared at the bar.
"Thanks," I said, my voice tight.
I never expected them to care. And honestly, they didn't really care about me. They cared that one of their own was being fed to the wolves. It was tribal solidarity, nothing more.
I looked at Lett, who was now busy trying to rip the ventilation grate off the wall with his bare hands.
"He's going to be strong," I said.
"He will be," Karr agreed, looking at the baby with genuine pride. "He won't have to hide behind anyone."
I gripped the nutrient bar.
I turned and walked out. I couldn't stay there. The pity in their eyes was suffocating. I preferred Zarbon's disdain. At least Zarbon thought I was useful. My parents just thought I was dead.
--
The Blind Spot was freezing.
The wind howled through the gap in the palace walls, cutting through my jumpsuit. I sat in the shadow of the buttress, waiting.
I checked my internal clock. She was late.
"You shouldn't be here."
I didn't turn. "Hello, Ruca."
She dropped from the wall, landing softly. She didn't come close. She stood ten feet away, her arms crossed, her body language closed off.
"My father knows," she hissed. "Commander Garl sat me down tonight. He told me that you're marked. He thinks you're a Cold Force spy planted to destabilize the King's inner circle."
"I'm not a spy," I said, standing up. "I'm a survivor. You know that."
"It doesn't matter what is true!" Ruca snapped. "It matters what they believe. My father warned me. If I'm seen associating with you, if they think I'm feeding you intel... I go down too. The Garl family loses its standing."
She took a step back.
"I can't train you anymore, Cress. It's too dangerous."
I looked at her.
She was scared. Not of me, but for me. And for herself. It was rational. It was the smart move.
But I couldn't accept it.
"No," I said.
Ruca blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said no," I stepped forward. "I leave at dawn. Nappa is taking us on a perimeter check. You know what that means. He's going to find a nest of something nasty and throw me in first to see if I explode."
I flared my Ki. Just a flicker. 400. 500. 600. 680.
I held it there, letting the pressure vibrate the air between us.
"I am hitting a wall, Ruca," I said, my voice intense. "My power level is nearly 700. I have the techniques. But I don't have the experience. If I stop leveling up now, if I stop pushing against someone stronger than me... I die tomorrow."
I looked her in the eye.
"You told me you wanted to be a Commander. You told me you wanted to be sharp. Well, sharpening a blade requires friction. You need me as much as I need you."
Ruca stared at me. She bit her lip, her tail twitching with agitation.
She looked at my desperate expression. She saw the truth of it.
"You're selfish," she whispered.
"I'm alive," I countered.
She let out a long, frustrated sigh, running a hand through her spiky hair.
"Fine," she growled. "But we can't meet like this. Not if Garl is watching."
"Then what?"
A dangerous glint entered her eyes. The fear vanished, replaced by the calculating look of an Elite.
"Leave it to me," she said. "If we're going to do this... we have to hide in plain sight."
She turned to leave.
"Don't die before dawn, Cress."
"I'll try my best."
-----
The estate of Commander Garl was a fortress of black stone and gold banners. It sat on the highest plateau of the Elite Sector, looking down on the misery of the Iron District like a judge on a throne.
Ruca walked through the main hall, her boots clicking rhythmically on the marble.
She found her father in his study, reviewing holographic maps of the conquest zones. Garl was a massive man, scarred and greying, with a mind as sharp as a vibro-blade.
"Father," Ruca said, stopping at the threshold.
Garl didn't look up. "I told you to stay in your quarters, Ruca. The political situation is volatile."
"I want a transfer," Ruca said clearly.
Garl paused. He swiped the map away and looked at her. "A transfer? You are due for a squad command in two years."
"I don't want to wait two years," Ruca lied, stepping into the room. She kept her face perfectly smooth, channeling the arrogance she knew he respected. "And I don't want to rot here fighting training drones."
"And where do you think you should go?"
"Nappa's squad."
Garl frowned. "Nappa? The brute? He is a blunt instrument. He has no subtlety. Why would a Garl serve under him?"
"Because of the spy," Ruca said.
Garl's eyes narrowed. "Cress."
"Exactly," Ruca said, pacing forward. "You said he is a threat. You said he is a Cold Force plant. But Nappa? Nappa is an idiot. He'll send the runt to fetch wine while the boy downloads our security codes."
She stopped in front of her father's desk and slammed her hand down.
"Put me in the squad. I'll watch him. I'll be his shadow. I'll pretend to be... intrigued by him. I'll get close."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"And if he slips up... if he makes one transmission to Zarbon... I'll kill him myself. I'll make it look like a training accident."
The lie tasted like ash in her mouth. She didn't want to kill Cress. She wanted to make sure Nappa didn't snap him in half for fun. She wanted to see how far the strange, ki-suppressing anomaly could go.
But Garl didn't see the protection. He saw ambition. He saw ruthlessness.
A slow smile spread across the Commander's face.
"Initiative," Garl mused. "I thought you were soft, Ruca. I thought you lacked the stomach for internal purging."
"I am a Garl," Ruca said, lifting her chin. "I protect the Throne."
Garl nodded, picking up his datapad.
"Approved. I will send the transfer order immediately. Keep your eyes open, daughter. And keep your blade sharp."
"Yes, Father."
Ruca turned and walked out.
As soon as she was in the hallway, she let out a shaky breath. She had just walked into the lion's den voluntarily.
You owe me, you selfish idiot, she thought.
--
Dawn broke over Hangar 4 like a bloody bruise on the horizon.
I stood in the assembly area. I was wearing my Model-Z armor. I had decided to wear it openly. If Nappa asked, I'd say I scavenged it. Better to be reprimanded than disemboweled by a stray blast.
Nappa's squad was already there.
There were three of them, besides the giant himself.
First was Zuto, a lanky Saiyan with a nasty scar running from his ear to his lip. He was leaning against a crate, cleaning a fingernail with a knife.
Second was Toma, a female warrior with a build like a tank and hair that looked like a lion's mane. She was currently chugging a flask of something that smelled like engine coolant.
Third was... me.
"Look at it," Zuto sneered, pointing his knife at me. "The pet is wearing the rubber suit. Think that's gonna save you when the Saibamen get hungry?"
"Maybe he thinks he can bounce," Toma laughed, wiping her mouth. "Hey, Runt. What's the over under on your survival? I bet ten credits you don't make it to the drop zone."
"Twenty says he trips on the ramp and breaks his neck," Nappa boomed, walking into the circle.
He loomed over me.
"Clean the landing struts, Runt," Nappa ordered, throwing a greasy rag at my face. It slapped against my cheek, heavy and wet. "We have ten minutes before launch. Make yourself useful before you become useless."
I caught the rag. I didn't glare.
"Yes, Commander," I said.
The squad laughed. It was the sound of predators toying with food.
I turned to the ship, the shame burning in my gut.
Suddenly, the hangar door hissed open.
"Attention on deck!" a computerized voice announced. "Transfer officer incoming."
Nappa frowned, turning around. "Transfer? I didn't request any more meat."
Footsteps echoed on the metal floor. Sharp. Confident.
Ruca walked in.
She was wearing pristine, high-grade armor with the Garl family crest on the pauldron. Her hair was tied back, her Scouter sat over her eye, and her tail was wrapped casually around her waist.
She looked every inch the Elite.
She stopped in front of Nappa and saluted. Not a bow, a salute of equals.
"Cadet Ruca, reporting for duty, Commander," she said, her voice crisp. "Transfer orders authorized by Commander Garl and approved by Central Logistics."
She held out a datapad.
Nappa took it, looking confused. He read the screen, his thick brows knitting together.
"Garl's daughter?" Nappa grunted. "In my squad? Why would a high-born want to get her boots dirty with us?"
Ruca smirked. She glanced past Nappa, locking eyes with me for a fraction of a second.
"I heard you see the most action, Commander," Ruca lied smoothly. "I got bored of the palace. I want to kill something."
Nappa stared at her for a second, then threw his head back and roared with laughter.
"Hah! A bloodthirsty princess! I like it!"
He slapped her on the shoulder hard enough to stagger a normal man. Ruca didn't budge.
"Alright, Princess!" Nappa shouted. "Fall in! Mira, give her a drink!"
Zuto and Toma scrambled to make room for her, looking impressed and slightly intimidated by her rank.
I stood by the landing strut, holding the greasy rag.
I looked down at the floor to hide the expression on my face.
It wasn't fear anymore. It was a smirk.
Ruca had done it. She had maneuvered her way into the squad.
I wasn't alone.
"Alright, dogs!" Nappa bellowed. "Load up! We have a planet to burn!"
I tossed the rag into the bin and followed them up the ramp.
The game had changed. And for the first time in a long time, I liked the odds.
--
The transport ship, a jagged hunk of atmospheric metal known as a "Dropship Class," shuddered violently as we hit the turbulence of the upper atmosphere.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of recycled oxygen and testosterone.
"I'm telling you," Zuto laughed, sharpening his knife on his knee guard. "The last time we hit this sector, the locals tried to fight us with spears. Spears! I didn't even use a blast. I just flew through them. It was like flying through a cloud of red mist."
Toma cackled, taking a swig from her flask. "You're disgusting, Zuto. I love it."
Nappa sat in the pilot's seat, steering with one hand and eating a nutrient bar with the other. He looked bored. For him, this wasn't war. It was pest control.
I sat in the back, strapped into the cargo jump seat. I was invisible to them.
Across the aisle, Ruca sat with perfect posture. She hadn't said a word since we launched. She stared straight ahead, her face a mask of Elite indifference, but I noticed her hand resting near the release of her seatbelt. She was tense.
Every few minutes, her eyes would flick to me, just for a millisecond, checking. Are you okay?
I would give the slightest nod. I'm fine.
It was a silent conversation beneath the roar of the engines. We were two spies in a den of brutes.
"Coming up on the drop zone," Nappa announced, his voice booming over the comms. "Planet Arlia 4. Standard gravity. Atmosphere is breathable but dusty. Intel says there's a resistance cell operating out of the canyons."
"Resistance," Zuto scoffed. "More like target practice."
The ship lurched as the landing gear deployed. We slammed onto the surface with a bone rattling thud. The hydraulic ramp hissed, lowering slowly to reveal a landscape of jagged orange rocks and purple sky.
"Alright, ladies!" Nappa shouted, unbuckling his harness. "Let's go make the King proud."
He grabbed a device from the dashboard.
"Readings?" Toma asked, checking her wrist-blaster.
Nappa pointed the box at the horizon. It emitted a low, grinding whir.
"Cluster to the North," Nappa grunted. "About fifty signatures. Power levels... pathetic. Averaging 200. The leader might be a 400."
"Dibs on the leader!" Zuto shouted, sprinting down the ramp.
"Form up!" Nappa barked, following him. "Ruca, you take the left flank. Toma, right. I'll take the center."
They moved out onto the orange dirt.
I stood up to follow.
Nappa stopped. He turned around, looking at me standing in the cargo hold.
"Whoa, whoa," Nappa sneered. "Where do you think you're going, Runt?"
"To... assist, Commander?"
"Assist?" Nappa laughed. "With what? Dying? You're a liability out there. A stray shot would vaporize you, and then I'd have to fill out paperwork."
He pointed a finger at the ship.
"You stay here. Guard the transport. If a single scratch gets on the hull, I'll peel you and wear your skin as a cape."
I froze. "But sir, protocol dictates—"
"I am the protocol!" Nappa roared.
"Let's go, Commander!" Zuto yelled from outside. "I see them!"
Nappa turned and launched himself into the air, a white aura exploding around him. Toma followed.
Ruca hesitated on the ramp. She looked back at me. She wanted to argue. She wanted to say that leaving me alone was dangerous.
But she couldn't.
Go, I mouthed to her.
She grit her teeth, nodded once, and blasted off, joining the squad.
I was alone.
Well, almost alone.
Zuto, who had lingered near the ramp controls, grinned at me.
"Have fun, pet," he said.
He punched the external lock override.
The heavy durasteel ramp slammed shut with a resounding clang. I heard the magnetic seals engage.
"Whoops," Zuto's muffled voice came through the hull. "Guess you're on perimeter watch for real. Try not to die."
Then, the sound of his flight faded into the distance.
Silence.
I stood in the dim cargo hold for a moment, listening to the wind howl outside.
Then, I let out a long breath and slumped against the wall.
"Thank god," I whispered.
A smile spread across my face.
Being abandoned was the best thing that could have happened. No Nappa breathing down my neck. No Zuto trying to trip me. Just me and the empty wasteland.
"Finally," I muttered. "Some peace and quiet."
I unzipped my grey jumpsuit. I peeled it off, revealing the armor underneath. I had modified it slightly in the barracks, removing the bulky amber shoulder pads to give my arms more range of motion. It looked sleeker now, more like the vest Vegeta wore on Earth.
I stretched, feeling the flexible material move with my muscles.
"Okay," I said, cracking my neck. "Objective: Guard the ship. Don't die. Maybe do some light training."
I hit the manual release for the side service hatch the one Zuto didn't know about and stepped out onto the orange surface of Arlia 4.
The air was dry and tasted of copper. The gravity was lighter than Vegeta's. I felt light as a feather.
I walked a perimeter around the ship.
It was quiet. The battle Nappa was fighting was miles away to the North. I could see faint flashes of light on the horizon and hear the distant rumble of explosions, but here? It was dead silent.
"Perfect," I thought. "I'll just sit here, work on my Ki control, and wait for the taxi."
I sat down on a flat rock near the landing gear. I closed my eyes and extended my senses.
I could feel Nappa's massive, chaotic energy in the distance. I could feel Ruca's sharp, focused Ki.
I relaxed.
Then, I felt it.
It wasn't a blip on a radar. It was a pressure.
Something was moving toward me from the South.
It wasn't flying. It was running. Fast.
I opened my eyes and stood up.
It was strong.
"Oh crap," I whispered. "I jinxed it."
I looked toward the canyon ridge about two hundred meters away.
A figure crested the hill.
It wasn't a standard Arlian resistance fighter. The locals were usually insectoid, with multiple limbs and exoskeletons.
This thing was bipedal. Tall.
It stopped on the ridge, looking down at the ship. Then, it looked at me.
It wasn't a local. It was a Hunter. A mercenary?
It didn't matter.
It charged.
It moved with terrifying speed, tearing up the ground as it sprinted. It covered fifty meters in a second.
"Okay," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "No running."
If I ran, it would destroy the ship. If the ship was destroyed, Nappa would kill me.
I had to fight.
I widened my stance. I dropped my hips.
I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, finding the valve in my gut.
My aura exploded.
It was a roaring white blaze.
My power surged.
The ground beneath my boots cracked. Dust swirled around me in a vortex.
I opened my eyes.
The Hunter was fifty meters away. It didn't slow down.
"Come on," I growled, raising my fists