Aliens versus Saiyans

by Memory in Crimson

Frieza loses contact with one of his colonies. He orders Elite Saiyans to investigate, but the crew discovers that the horrific plague that destroyed the colony is more than meets the eye.

1. Licarg and the Riplers

Title: Aliens versus Saiyans

Author: Danni

Summary: Freeza loses contact of a colony set up on a desolate planet. He orders a special force of Saiyans to investigate, but the group discovers that the plague that destroyed the colony is more than meets the eye.

Timeline: Before Vegeta-sei's destruction.

Warning: Violence, adult language, adult content.

Disclaimer: Dragonball/Z © Akira Toriyama. The Alien is the creation of H.R. Giger. The Riplers—Licarg, Pep, Maize, Kale, Richyko, Aubergine, and Jicama—are Saiyan derivatives by Danni. Please do not take without author consent.

---

Chapter 1—Licarg and the Riplers

Six months had passed since the completion of the colony on Freeza #113. Though desolate, cold and windy, the planet seemed very strategic, according to maps of the tyrant's vast empire. No life had been discovered living there with the exception of bizarre, nocturnal creatures. But they proved no initial threat. The chance seemed highly unlikely that anything or anyone would dare cross paths with Freeza's forces.

Then two months of delayed responses had passed. Freeza fumed at the thought that his soldiers would defy him. He had waited one more week before sending a small reconnaissance crew to the planet. They were neither heard from nor seen again.

"This is a fiasco! Absolutely!" whined a tall iguana man, decked in a shining robe, gesticulating wildly. "The Nostromo Colony is facing charges that could lead to it being an ex-place. And the gods only know how much it cost to build it, let alone maintain it!"

"Don't be such a whiner," said an auburn-haired Saiyan, reclining in his chair with his feet on the table. "Gods know why Emperor Ice Box's got his briefs in a bunch over some bitty rock. I mean, he's got so many planets! What's wrong with this one's goin' bye-bye boom?"

The iguana man puffed up. "Be serious now, man," he said. "If His Majesty continues to be subject to more silence, he will destroy the entire planet, not just the colony! And that would only contribute to the bad economy we are currently mired in."

"Pah! Just typical of the 'Master' to go over budget during a planet auction," whispered a twenty-something-year-old Saiyan to his only female comrade. She smirked and they both snickered.

"Now," began the iguana man matter-of-factly, "Emperor Freeza has requested that His Majesty King Vegeta gather his best warriors to carry out a second—and final—reconnaissance mission."

"Stop being so stuffy, Figaya!" cried the auburn-haired Saiyan. "Spaketh so thateth we con recanciliate thine ev'ry wordeth!"

The quills lining Figaya's spine rose in exasperation. He stared at the elder Saiyan sitting beside him, whose hair was lined grey on the sides, the remnant halo from an unspoken of and traumatic battle. The iguana man gritted his teeth and hissed to him, "Excuse me, Captain Licarg, but if you please..."

The elder Saiyan had been staring wearily off into space and then looked up at the creature. "Hmm?"

"Your crew?" growled Figaya through those pointed teeth.

Licarg's eyes swept slowly around the table, observing his crew, the Riplers, as they snickered and fumbled around with pens and bits of paper. He smiled, but when Figaya glowered down on him with yellow-and-red eyes, he frowned. Then Licarg commanded, "All right, you ruffians, listen to what the Chancellor has to say."

Then he glanced at the auburn-haired Saiyan, Maize, and said, "This goes especially for you, Lance Corporal. I cannot allow you to repeat an event resembling the Planet Ashen Incident two years back. Clear?"

Maize's eyes shot wide with the mention of the passed egregious mistake. He bared his gritted teeth, full of spite, for being reminded of that which, he believed, should have been left in the past.

Figaya cleared his throat.

"Now, as I was saying," he began, "before I was so rudely interrupted—"

"Figaya," said Licarg with a sigh in his throat, "I know why my crew and I are here. By orders of Emperor Freeza, King Vegeta has called us together to fix the problems on the Nostromo Colony, correct?"

Figaya snickered evilly and sardonically. "You're not even halfway right, but I'm glad to see some of you monkeys have brains."

The Riplers, with the exception Licarg, shot deadly glances of spite upon the iguana man. The god Tabega help him if they got their hands around his throat!

"Emperor Freeza has ordered that you be summoned to, not exactly fix the problem, but evaluate it. The colony, as far as location is concerned, is worth its weight in the trillions of Intergalactic Space Dollars: that is, temp. The length for which we have had no response calls for more experienced individuals—in this case, warriors—to investigate. This goes against usual protocol, but we are getting desperate. Furthermore, it could be that when you land, the situation found there might demand instant military action."

"So what you're saying," began the female Saiyan, "is that our Kings view us as really expendable? And because Saiyans are warriors and no one else wants to go, no one will care what will happen to us? Nice."

"My dear... um..." Figaya fumbled through the sheets on his clipboard. "... um..."

"Private Aubergine, you leather-duster," she said, still disdainful. "Yeah, so what about us?"

"My dear... Aubergine," said Figaya, "the matter is not about your 'expendability.' Rather, by voluntarily submitting your service to Emperor Freeza's military, one by default ought to expect to be assigned to life-threatening situations, even if one does not know one hundred percent if the situations are life-threatening. As we assume, uh, with this little situation."

"Great," whispered Aubergine to her twenty-something-year-old comrade, "assigned to a blind fight. Man, what if this is a bust?"

"Well, we can always hunt this guy down, tar and de-scale his worthless hide," replied the comrade, Richyko, and the two snickered.

"Knock off the shenanigans, you two!" barked Licarg. "Don't think that Maize is the only dog I'll beat."

Richyko and Aubergine silenced and slowly cringed in their chairs. They knew that their Captain did not mean to be so harsh, but he been involved in battles that would make any Saiyan crawl. He, one of the bravest Saiyans serving as one of King Vegeta's best, had been scared out of his mind so badly one time that an uneven grey stripe had formed, making an incomplete halo. Indeed he could be angelically calm, but other times he was as stressed as a nervous Devil.

"Well," sighed Figaya, "may I finish this before the planet really is destory?"

Licarg nodded. "Please, Sir."

"All right! Now we know that the colony has not contacted us for two months and one week since the sixth month of its establishment. We lost contact with our last vessel that we sent out there. At first we assumed that weather conditions had deteriorated or perhaps a computer had malfunctioned. However just this morning we received a message from the Nostromo, which we found to be quite disturbing."

Then Figaya started fumbling around with his papers, searching for the recording and the accompanying transcript. Suddenly, without his knowing, the recording device glided over to a teenaged, white-haired boy. The boy snatched it before it fell of the table and held it up.

"Excuse me, Sir," he said quietly, "I think I have what you're looking for."

The iguana man's head shot up. He smiled and said, "Aw, yes, the recording." He marched over to the young Saiyan and snatched the device from his hand. "Thank you, you lovely little monkey."

The young boy cocked his head, confused. His crewmates glanced at him, some eyebrows raised.

"What's his name again?" whispered Aubergine to Richyko.

"I think it's Jicama," he replied. "He's been assigned with us for only three days now."

Aubergine smirked, arms crossed. Jicama, this white-haired boy, seemed so frail and timid for a Saiyan; likely he was a half-breed. She began to wonder why he had been assigned to a team that faced dangers that even the gutsiest of lower class warriors would turn down.

"The message is brief," said Figaya, setting up the device, "but I think this will give you an idea of what you might be dealing with." Then he handed the transcripts to Licarg to read along with as the voice of a distraught soldier played:

'From the Nostromo Colony on Imperial Number 113. Situation: We have been dealing with a sentient force for two months now. At least we think it is sentient. We have no lights… most of the boys think they cut it… have little warmth, and we keep disappearing. Yes, we keep disappearing, and none of the comrades are seen again.'

Then faint sobbing played. 'It really feels like my time is nearing now. I've got this one chance to ask for help. We need it… need it real bad now. We don't know what they are, why they're here—how they even got here. But they're like devils…. They are fucking devils! They got no mercy, you can't see 'em with scouters or infrared or your own eyes until they tear out your insides out—'

Suddenly a metallic bang cut off the voice. 'Oh gods, they're here! They're here, gods-damn it! Outside the doors now! I can hear them scratching… screeching… threatening to tear my flesh off my bones... dear gods help me! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna—'

Soon the Riplers and Figaya could also here the screeching. What ever had been on the other side had finally gotten to the soldier, and soon the hiss of the message signing off was all that they heard. Figaya leaned over the table and shut off the device, an eerie silence descending upon the table. The Riplers glanced with wide eyes at each other, then all at their leader. The captain sighed through his nostrils, his face full of the forced calm of superior officers. Finally he looked up at Figaya.

"Obviously," began the iguana man, also calm but somewhat visibily shaken, "the soldiers of the Nostromo Colony did not know what they were facing; nor were they able to fight it off. We still don't know what it is, which happens to make these sounds. It matches nothing in our sound data banks."

"He had to have somehow known," began the shaggy-haired Saiyan who sat beside Licarg. "Somehow."

"And if he had, he was too out of his mind to contribute any more information... Lieutenant Pep. In fact"—Figaya sighed, running a claw over his head—"this is the only byte of information we have on what has happened—is happening."

Pep glanced at Licarg, eyes wide with confusion and alarm. Licarg shook his head in a gesture of sorrow for the fallen soldier.

"Well, ain't that just shitty?" growled Maize, roughly massaging his brow. "So… so what the hell, man? What are we s'possed to chase, eh? These freakin'… things you can't even detect? What, like fucking shadows or demons, man?"

"Corporal!" snapped Licarg to quell the inappropriate tongue.

"We do not know, Lance Corporal," said Figaya. "We know that even you should not underestimate this antagonist. If… what ever it is managed to go unseen this long, even before the colony was established, then the repercussions of our mistake will be costly... literally, in temp and men! And women," he quickly added when Aubergine stared at him.

Then each member of the Riplers glanced at each other again. Richyko, filled with thoughts of a finally meeting a really challenging foe, looked across the table to a black-haired Saiyan.

"So cuz?" He grinned. "Ya ready for a big battle?"

The Saiyan smiled back at him, an equally large grin. "You know it, Richy!"

Richyko and Aubergine laughed.

"Kale, you've always got a thirst for blood!" exclaimed Aubergine.

"Hey, I can't deny my blood!" he replied. "It's like trying live without water or air!"

"Unless you're Ice Box..." said Richyko, and the three broke into a loud fit of laughter.

"Well." Licarg stood up beside Figaya, who glared at the cackling warriors. "I see my crew and I have some training to do."

"Oh, heavens no!" replied Figaya. "You're not training!"

Licarg's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? We've never been in a combat situation like this. We need some practise; I mean, at least a week—"

Figaya snickered. "Oh, but you must go as soon as you accept the mission, and by your words you seem most assuredly willing to go."

Licarg's strong, battle-scarred hand wrapped around the collar of Figaya's robe. He easily lifted the iguana man off his feet. Teeth bared, the elder Saiyan said, "That goes against protocol and the contract that I signed long ago! My crew always gets a minimum of two days orientation training before a mission. Always."

"Well," began Figaya nervously, "you must look at the big picture, Captain. This entire thing goes against protocol. You can't expect a little thing like lack of training to spoil things—ack!"

Licarg slammed Figaya against the wall. "I'd rather be executed by my King on this very spot!" growled Licarg. "Because it may seem like a little thing I'm getting upset over, but I had that clause written in my contract for a reason. So don't fuck with my contract or my crew, you un-Saiyan bastard, or I will make you uglier than you already ARE!"

The word 'fuck', uttered from the mouth of their rather proper leader, froze the Riplers in their spots. Licarg never swore often, and if he did, one was certain that he had been thoroughly provoked. And that meant to steer clear of his person or risk death.

"Riplers! Attention!" The soldiers quickly rose to their feet as the captain dropped Figaya unceremoniously. The crew followed him as he marched to the automatic sliding doors. "I am not listening to some green turd of a lizard about a mission like this..."

The stunned Figaya shouted, "You stupid monkey! You don't understand the importance of finding out the whole truth!"

Licarg turned, parting the crew as he sailed back. "Wrong, you little invalid! Dead wrong! I've seen the whole truth play out my whole life, and I know how law and politics work. So don't try to outsmart or smartass me 'cause I'm never in the mood for Grade A bullshit! Why don't you find some other imbecile, some naïve amateur, to carry out your death missions because I'll have nothing to do with it from now on!"

Figaya, as did the Riplers, remained wide-eyed and silent. Then Licarg marched angrily back to the front, and his crew followed his clip, infuriated steps. They knew to stay far behind him and not to speak to him. They knew that very likely the recollections of horrible days long since passed were probably replaying in his mind—all the fellow warriors slaughtered before his eyes, and the conflict that had bleached a grey halo around his well-shaped skull.

During the journey back to their rooms, Richyko managed to summon up the courage to speak with Captain Licarg.

"Um, Sir," he said quietly.

"What is it, Private First Class?" asked the weary Licarg.

"Sir, may I speak with you for a moment, Sir?"

Licarg halted and looked at Richyko with tired eyes. He sighed, expecting the usual modest plea to dive head first into a dangerous mission.

"Fine," he sighed. "Riplers, report to your designated quarters. We will meet in the training arena within the hour, so don't lie about!"

"Yes, Sir!" shouted the crew, and they went their separate ways. Then the captain stepped the last few feet toward his room, typed in the password, and entered. Richyko followed, the door sliding shut behind him. Licarg walked to his desk and plopped onto his chair, sitting with a slight slouch.

"Before you ask, Richyko, you know my answer," he said.

"But Captain, this mission could be the one of a lifetime!" beckoned the young Saiyan.

"Yes, one of… and possibly the last. My answer is still no," replied Licarg. "This mission smells like trouble and could be, especially if we're not allowed enough time to better orientate ourselves to a similar environment."

"Sir, why must we always train before a mission? I mean most of the time, we really don't know what we're going up against. And we usually do so great! How would this mission be any different?"

"Because it smells that way. They know more than they are letting on. Now I've been around longer, and I know the politics of this game, Richyko. I am clairvoyant enough to see when a trick is brewing. And I want nothing to do with it unless King Vegeta himself tells me that we need to do it."

"Ha! That won't be long," said Richyko, a hand on his hip. "That guy's got a temper a mile wide and a mile deep. He'll find out and—"

"I will, in turn, reason with him." Then Licarg sighed. He did not need this inquisition from his own subordinate, not while a headache ravaged his brain. He soon stood up, walked to the door, and pressed the button to open it.

"You are dismissed, Private," he said.

"But Sir—"

"Richyko, I cannot tolerate this defiance!" shouted Licarg. "Not now of all times. Now I need your support on this, so just report to your designated quarters or I will cuff you so hard that your head won't stop spinning. Understand?"

Richyko's face fell. He knew in his instincts what mistake he had made by even thinking he could get through to his superior officer. And so dejectedly he marched out, head high but spirit low.

Licarg shut the door and reclined on his bed. He crossed his arms and rubbed his forehead. The recording kept replaying in all its ghastliness in his mind. He knew that Ice-jin Emperor was covering up much more information, and Licarg intended to get as many details as possible. Then again, Richyko had made a point: when (not if) King Vegeta would be brought into the matter, he would be most displeased with the Captain. And Licarg knew what the volatile King did to treacherous warriors.

Licarg shuddered and closed his eyes. His days as a brash young warrior long passed began to run through his mind. He remembered the times when he had been arrogant and too eager to jump into battle. Such reckless behaviour finally led to the destruction of friends and fellow warriors in one horrifically unforgettable combat.

Suddenly a beeping noise sounded from atop Licarg's desk. He sat up and saw the red light on his television-phone blinking rapidly.

"Not now..." Licarg sat at his desk, reached for the phone, and turned on the screen. He placed the caller on he speaker. "Hello, this is Captain Licarg speaking."

The screen flickered with snow. A voice on the other line told him to wait. After several seconds passed, a face appeared on the screen. He was a young man with wild black hair tied back. He wore a scouter with a blue-green lens, and his armour bore the Royal House's crown symbol. Licarg smirked bitterly and shook his head.

"The King's loyal Corn," said Licarg as he bowed his head. "What news do you harbour?"

The Captain of the Elite Guard wore an unreadable expression. "His Majesty King Vegeta has received word of your refusal."

Of course; I was expecting, as well as dreading, this. "I assumed he might," replied Licarg.

"I must say, His Majesty is most displeased that one of his highest ranking warriors would refuse such a mission of importance."

"Well, I apologise, Corn, but that lowlife secretary Figaya was threatening to breach a small but still rather significant portion of my contract."

"Well, I suggest you overlook such minor details."

Licarg bristled. He had generally not cared much for Corn. When ever they met or briefly passed each other, each man let the other go about his way if he were left alone. At the moment, Licarg did not care for tone in the advisor's voice.

"I wish to speak with King Vegeta immediately," said Licarg.

"I'm afraid he's occupied at the moment."

"Listen to me, you little twit," growled the captain. "You either get him on here now or I will come down there myself and show you how much free time I have!"

Corn's black eyes had slightly widened, but that face otherwise remained the same. He turned his head away to the side and leaned off-screen. He whispered to someone beside him.

"You will need to wait for an hour—"

"NO!" Licarg's boisterous shout rattled Corn and sent him back. "I will speak to my King right now or, so help me Corn, I will finally break open your sorry ass and smear your face in your own shit!"

Corn immediately disappeared off screen. People shouted in the background in the native Saiyan tongue, demanding that the King appear immediately. And soon his bearded majesty did appear, weary and unpleasant.

"Captain Licarg," began the burly-voiced King, "I should have known you would do this. To be frank I shouldn't favour you like this."

"My King," began Licarg, "I cannot go through with the mission to the Nostromo Colony. I did not like the way Figaya presented it. And I doubt anyone else would have made it better. But that little green scum-sucker was about to have me violate my contract."

"And from what I understand, you defended yourself too well," said the King. "I was in the midst of speaking with the Emperor about Figaya, albeit I could not hear him because of Figaya's constant shouting. But I assure you, the little green scum-sucker will not longer trouble you…"

Which meant that stupid iguana man had irked Freeza enough to kill him.

"Licarg, if you want some time to train," said King Vegeta, "I've managed to strike a bargain. You have some until the next departure, which is not far from now. So I suggest that you use the time wisely."

Licarg sighed and bowed his head. "I understand, Your Majesty. I will accept the mission to the Nostromo Colony."

King Vegeta growled softly and nodded. No wonder, thought Licarg, the captain saw the dark circles around the King's eyes. King Vegeta could have ripped his ears off, old respected friend or not, but lethargy was holding the homicidal judge at bay. "Now I suggest you rest, old friend. You look very weary."

Licarg smirked. "Don't mind my saying this, Your Majesty, but I advise the same of you." Then he bowed his head a second time. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Stay well."

Finally the screen flashed into snow two seconds later. Licarg turned off his device and slouched in his chair. His temples beat with the stress of confronting his 'old friend' like that.

The only reason why Licarg commanded King Vegeta's respect was because he had served honourably during the last years the man's father's reign. He had eventually become a great general under the current Vegeta's rule. But after a disastrous battle and an unexpected struggle to survive on Planet Sulaco, Licarg had been deemed unfit to return to battle and had temporarily retired, serving with the Royal Guards. Only two years ago he had managed to return to the army, but despite King Vegeta's confidence in him, Licarg had refused to serve anything higher than a captain.

In Licarg's mind, he would never again be worthy of high titles. He did not wish to be.

The elder captain sighed. He decided that it would be proper if to rendezvous late to training. In the meantime, he would rest and contemplate how to approach the mission.

But this doesn't mean I'm going to like this any better, thought Licarg to himself, and he rested his heavy bones on the bed.