PART ONE
Mort stared at the fluorescent rock; nestling firmly at the heart of the dusty crater and pulsing purple against the blood-red night sky.
"What do ya think it is?" He enquired.
He was small, grey and scrawny, like the rest of his species. A large head housed inquisitive eyes and a nose-less face, and was topped with a too-large pilots helmet. Two scrawny arms rested at his sides, topped with large hands covered in dusty gloves, and long legs sprouted from a short torso; pant-clad and sinking into scavenged, ill-fitting boots.
His build was as awkward as his demeanour; timid and unsure, as he dusted his waistcoat and eyed the rock cautiously.
"You're the genius," Koman shot back, "you tell me."
Koman was the polar opposite of his cousin; shorts-clad, red skinned, clothes scavenged but fitted, and eying the new find like a bargain at the junk market.
"I know about machines and relics." Mort replied. "This is a whole other level of weird."
"Barba?" Koman peered inquisitively at his larger associate.
Barba towered over them; big, bulky, and square. His wide-set eyes sat on a featureless face and they flicked briefly from the glowing metal rock to his comrades. All he could offer his comrades was a vacant look and a shrug.
Barba could lift a small ship on his own but he was terrible for conversation.
"I'll tell you what it is…" Koman began, eyes alight, "…profit."
He began striding purposefully towards the crater until Mort gripped his arm.
"You insane?!" Mort interjected, "You don't know what the hell that thing is or where it came from! Could be covered in parasites for all you know."
"Thought you said you only knew about 'machines and relics'?" Koman shot back, yanking his arm free.
"I also know that meteors don't glow like that."
"Exactly."
"…Huh?"
"Whatever it is, it could be valuable. Think of how much money we could make from this!"
"We got plenty money in the cart back there."
Mort pointed and the large hover cart stuffed to the brim with old machinery, sheet metal, and other parts and relics from this planet's long-forgotten past.
Koman scoffed.
"C'mon, Mort, that stuff's small change compared to treasure trove that practically landed on top of us."
"The junk market won't have anywhere near enough funds to pay us for that thing anyhow. Assuming it's actually worth something."
"Don't know about you but I'm thinking bigger than the junk market."
"Such as?"
"God knows... we'll figure that out later." Koman waved dismissively. "What I do know is that once word gets out, those big shot PTO assholes will quarantine this planet and take this damn thing for themselves, so this is our only chance to get a piece of it."
Mort frowned. Koman continued.
"Besides, when they do, the price is gonna be sky high and I plan on taking full advantage."
Koman didn't wait for a response. Grabbing his satchel, he surfed, boot-first, down the shallow crater wall, orange dust billowing in his wake.
Barba, twice their size combined, followed closely behind him, huge feet gouging sand from the hardened turf.
"Fuck my life..." Mort sighed in defeat, grabbing his satchel and taking a swig from his water before following down the shallow crater.
It had been a few hours before dawn when the meteorite burst through Afterlife's heavy, arid atmosphere. The shockwave from its speed had ruffled the dead planet's scorched and abandoned settlements and kicked up dust in its wake before crashing in the distance.
Mort had seen a hundred worlds in his time as a junker. Meteorites were nothing new, in fact they were common for a tiny planet at the edge of the galaxy. Hell, he was willing to bet they were probably the reason why Afterlife was dead to begin with, or at least one of them if the craters were anything to go by.
The impact hadn't been enough to interrupt their search for relics and old machinery in the tiny planet's endless seas of trash and rubble. He and his associates had paused briefly to make insincere wishes before they continued to dig earnestly. The hours had proven profitable too; the old engine parts alone would fetch a good price at the junk market.
It had only been afterwards, as they were making their way back to their half-rusted ship under the dark pre-dawn skies that they noticed the distant purple glow at the landing site.
That was new…
The glow intensified as they raced down the crater wall and they were bathed in a gentle warmth upon their approach.
This definitely wasn't a meteor.
"Whoa…" The wonder spilled from Mort's lips when he observed the object up close; nested at the very heart of the crater, half-submerged in crusted orange earth.
It was… weird… to say the least. Surprisingly small given the size of the crater, about the width a hover car, with a queer shape like a mass of bubbles moulded together. It was entirely the opposite of the usual jagged mass of rock that often made up meteors. And it was shiny. Very shiny. It reflected the pre-dawn sky with such intensity that Mort could see the fading stars on its surface.
"What d'ya think it's made of?" He asked, bare hands gliding across the smooth surface. It was cold to the touch.
"Money." Koman responded, without missing a beat, still circling and appraising the shimmering metal with hunger in his eyes. He couldn't believe his luck. "Enough for some new IDs from the market, a one-way ticket out of this shitty star system and away from this shittier junker life, new lives, maybe some land on a distant planet somewhere too."
"Speak for yourself." Mort replied, slight pang of excitement dripping into his voice, "I'm going to school. Get myself a proper qualification."
"Yeah, you do that…" Koman responded dismissively.
He rummaged briefly through his satchel before producing a chisel and hammer.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting paid."
"Don't you think we should do a more thorough inspection firs-?"
His protests were drowned out by metal clashing with metal as the chisel banged stiffly against the thick alloy.
Evidently, Koman didn't.
Unfortunately, for his comrade, the chisel had no effect. Barring a mild vibration, the chisel didn't leave so much as a mark. Koman looked perplexed, then furrowed his brows and tried again. The hammer struck the chisel more forcefully this time but, again, he only managed to produce a subtle vibration. When he pulled the chisel away, only smooth, untouched metal greeted him.
"Sunuva…" He scowled, "The hell is this thing made from?"
"Money." Mort shot back sarcastically, retrieving his own chisel from his satchel. His attempts were met with the same result. "Interesting. Might be the hardest surface I've ever seen. Lotta armies would pay a small fortune for something like this."
"They won't be paying a damned thing if it's stuck in this god-forsaken crater." He spat in frustration. "Not unless Barba can carry it back to the ship."
As if on cue, Barba appeared beside them, reared back, and punched the shimmering alloy, leaving a smooth dent and a shallow crack where his large fist impacted the surface.
"Aw, sweet!" Koman grinned in triumph.
Barba just responded with a smile.
Before they could celebrate, his efforts were met with a heavy vibration and a brief but disconcerting groan from deep within the bowels of the lumpy metal. And Mort's anxiety spiked.
"Guys, that ain't normal…" His eyes flicked towards the glowing rock, then back to his crew. "We should grab our shit, take what we got, and get out of here."
"Listen, you can run back to the ship if you want to, but don't expect me n' Barbs to split the proceeds if we're doing all the work," He turned to his heavy teammate, "right, Barb?"
Barba nodded in response.
Mort stayed silent, defeated, but stepped back cautiously to observe.
Koman braced his chisel again, this time with the sharp head nestled in the crack Barba had created. His hammer met the head and, this time, the crack deepened and widened, spreading sharply across the surface. It would prove to be a fatal mistake.
Before he could strike a second blow, the metal groaned then shimmered and warped around his chisel… then snapped out and grasped his lower arm with frightening speed. Koman's yelp of surprise turned into a pained scream as the metal tightened around his arm, hardening then crushed the entire appendage.
Mort watched the display in wordless horror, impotent in his inaction as his tools slipping from his limp, shaky grasp.
He watched as Koman struggled frantically, hammering away at the metallic appendage in desperation with his free hand until the metal expanded and grasped his other hand and his leg.
"Help me!"
His heart thumped against his chest as the screams echoed in the pre-dawn air. Barba tried valiantly to save him until he too was caught by a second metallic appendage. This time it burst from beneath the crusted orange sand, impaling the behemoth's chest with such force it lifted him from his feet. A surprised and pained groan escaped him as he landed but it was silenced quickly as his head was tightly embraced in a cocoon of smooth metal.
With a sudden and violent jerk, the behemoth was dragged beneath the surface to his grave.
It was only as the glow intensified that Mort's adrenaline spiked in panic and he turned to run.
"Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!"
He had to get out of here. Fast. If he could just get out of the crater… put some distance between him and whatever the hell that thing was…
That was his final coherent thought before his legs were locked in a crushing metallic embrace.
Unlike his comrades, Mort never had the opportunity to scream. His mouth was quickly flooded with metal and sand and an eerie silence fell over the desert plain.
The Prince
The Planet Trade Organisation.
The most powerful entity in the known galaxy.
Seven centuries of blood and strife had nurtured a modest mercenary collective into a galaxy spanning conglomerate with thousands of planets enveloped in its unyielding grasp.
For generations, it had engineered coups and rebellions, instigated and settled planet spanning conflicts, influenced depositions and coronations, and funded the imperialist ambitions of dynasties across the galaxy. Such was its power and influence.
And through it all, it had accrued incalculable wealth.
For the latter half of its history, it was the arm of an empire with billions of lives affected by every executive order. This was due, in no small part, to its long stewardship. Throughout its storied history, it had been chaired by generations of the strongest beings to have walked the cosmos.
And now Coola stood alone at the helm. The last surviving heir to the Kold Dynasty. A worthy vanguard of a noble tradition; the strongest in the universe.
He sat at the head of the long table, deep within the bowels of his ship. His purple skin glowed faintly under the dim lighting as his hover-chair echoed in the empty imperial chamber. Three holograms sat before him. The transmission signal was middling but at best but, still, the alabaster white and pearlescent black carapaces of his council members were unmistakeable.
His executives. The 33 sectors of his empire were divided amongst them. He let the silence linger for a moment, regarding each member in turn with piercing inquisition.
"Welcome." He declared.
"You honour us with your summons, Lord Coola" Executive Argo responded, voice distorted with the flickering hologram.
"Sire, before we begin, may we offer our sincerest condolences on the anniversary of your father's death."
Coola turned his gaze to the longest serving member of his council. Shrunken and withered but reserved and earnest, Executive Kuri has served three generations of his family faithfully.
"Thank you, Executive Kuri."
"Both he and your brother, Sire." Argo continued. He was far younger but seasoned and more forthright. "Horrific that they met their ends at the hands of a savage." He stated, lips curling in distain. "May your vengeance be swift and brutal."
"The sooner you bring me good news; the sooner we can proceed."
"Indeed, Sire." Argo continued. "We've spared no expense. A thousand of our finest soldiers drafted from across the galaxy, as requested. All provisioned and equipped with newly commissioned armour; all ready for deployment. More than sufficient to occupy the planet's forces."
"I hope so. I've waited a decade to engage my father and brother's murderer; I will not have our meeting disturbed."
"They have been briefed of the importance of their mission. Earth's defences will be fully occupied by the time you do battle with the monkey; their stand will be brutal and short."
Coola nodded, tail draped elegantly over his seat. Everything was moving according to plan.
"See that they're not too reckless in their campaign. The planet is useless to me if they grind it to powder."
"If I may ask, what of the monkey's friends, my Lord?" Lott enquired, cautious, considered and calculating as always. "The old Namek files state the savage was accompanied by a number of earthlings, including a namekian. The traitorous prince was also amongst their ranks. I fear they may be too great an obstacle for our soldiers to overcome."
"Obstacle is a polite way to phrase it, Lott."
"Then forgive me, my Lord, but how do we intend to bridge the gap? Perhaps we should increase our numbers as a contingency?"
"To how many?" Argo enquired, turning to face his counterpart.
"Fifty-thousand. Perhaps even a hundred-"
"A hundred thousand?" He asked, incredulous. "Excessive. We've never needed to provision more than ten-thousand soldiers to conquer a planet and that's with elite forces leading the campaigns."
"With all due respect, Argo, the additional expense is justified. Earth is a priceless jewel and its defences are not to be underestimated." Lott countered. "We must spare no expense, particularly when we consider its value to the Organisation."
"And all of that value wiped out when a hundred thousand soldiers accidentally raze the planet to the ground, destroy its technology and slaughter its brightest minds-"
"Enough." Coola cut through the bickering with a calm authority, rising from his seat. "Lord Lott, do you question my judgement?"
He met the cautious executive with a withering red gaze.
"No, Sire. I-"
"Perhaps you believe me arrogant? Ill-prepared?" He enquired, gaze unwavering.
"Never, Lord Coola. I simply wish to ensure this mission's success-"
"As do I, Lord Lott." He stated, closing the issue. "A thousand soldiers will be enough."
"Yes, Sire."
Coola nodded.
"The Squadron will accompany me." He declared, reclaiming his seat. "As will Unit 54." His council remained silent as he continued. "I expect my most powerful unit to crush his friends." He paused, red eyes scrutinizing each executive in turn. "As for Vegeta, my Chief will deliver justice for his betrayal personally."
Silence continued to linger over the council chamber. And Coola had expected it. It seemed that even decades after the demise of the Saiyan race, the paranoia still lingered among his executives.
"I can sense your trepidation. Speak freely. I have never prevented you from expressing your opinions."
"…I do not doubt the strength of your unit, my Lord." Kuri began. "My only concern is your unit captain."
"He has never failed me."
"Indeed, Sire. But considering what he is and where he will be going… I have concerns as to whether he has the emotional fortitude to handle the magnitude of the task at hand."
"I share his concerns, Sire." Lott, concurred.
"Did you not counsel caution a moment ago?" The executive at least had the grace to look embarrassed. "I could deploy a hundred-thousand soldiers or the most powerful member of my military."
"Forgive me, my Lord, but given his maverick tendencies and… genetic instability-"
"I hear your concerns, council." Coola interjected, weary of the topic. "But the decision has been made. I will not hear any more on this matter."
The council fell into silence once again.
"I expect my ship to be ready for inspection by tomorrow. Our forces will depart for earth in a week, provided all sectors are secure."
"Almost, Sire."
Coola paused, eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean 'almost'?"
"Sector 30, Sire. The Afterlife incident…"
"It's been two months, Lott; I was under the impression that this matter had been concluded."
"Apologies, my Lord, but there have been new developments; an eye witness on the planet when the celestial object struck."
"I was informed that the planet was deserted when the incident occurred."
"Apparently not, my Lord. What's more, he was accompanied by two associates, both of whom are dead."
"And why has he not been eliminated as well? Information such as this is incredibly sensitive, I did not believe I would need to hold your hands in these matters."
"That was our first point of call, however he is sick, Lord Coola. Very Sick."
"As is to be expected when one comes into contact with an uninspected celestial object. Meteorites carry pathogens, unfortunate for the weak, maybe, but I fail to see how this interferes with our mission."
"Understandable, Sire, but they don't carry artificial pathogens."
Silence.
"Are you implying my empire is under attack? That you have allowed terrorism to propagate in your sector?"
"I have yet to reach such a conclusion, my Lord. However, these developments would require further investigation."
"Sire," Kuri interjected "I understand your eagerness for revenge more than anyone, however, if something like this is left unchecked, it could easily spread to other sectors and threaten our stability. It would be wise to exercise caution and investigate before we conquer Earth."
Coola paused, weighing his thirst for conquest against the risks posed to his empire.
"I will depart for Earth in two weeks. No later. In the meantime, Bolo will travel to Sector 30 and oversee the investigation personally."
"Thank you, Lord Coola."
"Don't thank me." He replied darkly. "Pray this is something worthy of my attention."
The city of Atlus was an architectural spectacle. From grandiosity of the commercial metropolis at its heart and the opulence of the imperial palace on the outskirts, to the cathedral spires reaching ambitiously toward the heavens, all the way down to the modest residential quarters that skirted the splendour, it was a marvel. One that sharply contrasted the metallic conformity of other more advanced civilisations.
Today, the grand capital had shed all pretext of dignified splendour. Music blared and everything was awash with colour, even more-so than usual. Banners decorated every building and flags hung from every lamp. The streets were a harmonious mess of colourfully dressed festival revellers, elaborately constructed floats, children's parades, choreographed dancers and lithe acrobats. And the bright blue sun added a shimmer to the display.
Nearly every citizen seemed to be in attendance; some two million dwellers, including government officials, who had travelled to partake in the celebration.
And all of them were under observation.
Vash's tall frame was folded, legs crossed as she sat hovering beneath the clouds. A light breeze swept long locks of feathered emerald hair across sharp, pine-green features; sharp, angled eyes, a delicate nose, and small, shapely lips.
"Well, isn't this cute." She drawled flatly, armour glimmering as her teeth tore another bite of meat from her drumstick.
"You should show some appreciation, Soldier." General Bolo's voice boomed in her ear despite the chattered signal. "We rarely get to see this kind of culture."
The General was taller still, nearly eight-feet tall, pink-skinned and powerfully built, and he hovered several kilometres south-east of her position. His spiked, carapaced and pink head affixed firmly to the grand palace in the distance.
"Because we're too busy destroying it?"
Her scouter caught the familiar look of annoyance.
"I'm just saying…" She placated defensively, a mouthful of food. "By the way, this scouter signal is sketchy as hell. I thought these things were meant to be state of the art."
"Solar radiation." He gestured towards the pale blue sun. "They're a work in progress."
"This is bullshit…" She muttered, words spat from her lips like an irritated scoff. "You'd think they'd field-test this crap before they gave them to us."
"This is the field test, Soldier. It was the Supreme Commander's idea. If you have a problem, take it up with him."
Sudden silence was her answer.
"Forgive me," a thin, wiry voice chimed, "but-"
"Why? What did you do?" Vash cut in with dry sarcasm.
Mussul, for his part, continued unperturbed.
"But… what is the purpose of this festival?"
His slight frame, typical for a Ki-Lod, matched the polite tone. He was by far the smallest of the Unit, standing a full head shorter than his female counterpart and then some, with a large head and pale green skin splotched from head to toe with darker flecks and splotches. Two thick fingers and a thumb plied his chin in thought as he hovered several kilometres south-west of her position. His other hand grasped the hilt of a short, elaborate knife holstered in his belt
Vash shook her head in a mix of irritation and disgust.
"You're way too polite, rookie, you know that?"
"Ignore Vash." Bolo's voice crackled. "She's a cunt."
"Just giving the newbie some guidance."
"Give him a lesson instead."
"How about he opens a book."
Her insubordination was met with a sharp glare.
"Harmony Festival." She began, sighing in annoyance. "These assholes unified their governments seven years back."
"If you call global conquest unification." Bolo added.
"Either way, it's an annual celebration commemorating the end of the war. See those colours?" Elegant hands gestured vaguely to the oranges, reds, blues, and other colourful shades adorning the buildings and crowds. "Banners for the continental provinces. It's meant to represent peace and harmony and all that other flowery, frivolous shit that never lasts."
"Global unification is impressive for such an underdeveloped species." Mussul responded, pearlescent purple eyes affixed to the parade.
And it was true. Global governments were usually the marker of advanced species, typically in response to a larger threat. It was practically unheard of for a species that had barely discovered intra-planetary flight to have unified their governments so successfully.
"Yeah, they're pretty remarkable. The emperor's dick's been hard ever since his coronation."
"He conquered his planet and brought lasting peace and prosperity to his people." Bolo added. "My dick would be hard too."
"Hard enough to think you can take on a galactic ruler?" She enquired, glancing at the general.
"That seems… unwise." Mussul added.
"See? Even the weirdo agrees with me."
"Largescale military victories have a way of inflating egos." The general reasoned.
"Permission to speak freely, General?"
Vash rolled her eyes at the Ki-Lod's insipid politeness, muttering indiscernibly under her breath.
"Granted."
"May I ask why you admire this emperor?" He enquired. "Lord Coola is the most powerful being in the galaxy; perhaps even the universe. He takes what he pleases and destroys those who resist him. One would assume that, were he to present you with a rare choice between a peaceful annexation and retaining your throne or violent conquest at the hands of a far superior force, you would choose annexation every time."
Not for the first time, Bolo found himself the subject of Mussel's scrutinising gaze.
"The emperor had a vision, he was willing to make sacrifices to achieve it, and is willing to make more to retain it. It takes balls to resist the Supreme Commander; I respect that."
"Respectfully, would you mind clarifying, General? I have noted similar patterns of logic among other rulers as well and it has always ended in defeat. Surely the appropriate course of action when posed with such an overwhelming threat would involve self-preservation and minimising collateral damage?"
"Two for two…" Vash muttered.
"Self-preservation at what cost? The emperor improved their society immeasurably; what will a conquering force inflict on your people when they're in charge? He chose the brave route and is willing to see it through, no matter the cost."
"I guess that makes us debt collectors then." Vash interjected dryly. "Personally, I think you're giving this asshole way too much credit."
Mussul shifted his gaze.
"In what way, Vashon?"
"Don't. Call me. That."
Bolo shook his head, but a faint smile betrayed his amusement.
"Apologies." Mussul bowed his head, respectful but unmoved. "In what way?"
She shot him a look for several long moments, indiscernible but brimming with withering negativity, before mastering herself.
"This has nothing to do with balls." She continued, head turning towards the crowd. "This emperor's one of those holier than thou types. Greater destiny, good triumphs over evil… all self-aggrandizement and self-righteousness right up until it gets him and his people killed."
He was tempted to press further, but her slight shift in demeanour and tonal depth warned against encroachment.
"So, you are suggesting he is naïve?"
"No, rookie; you're naïve."
"Perhaps." He responded, the calm contemplativeness never ceased to amaze his teammates…
"I'm saying the emperor's a narcissist." She continued. "There's no other explanation for that level of stubbornness."
A sudden chatter in Bolo's scouter cut their conversation short, just as the bulk of the parade passed the imperial palace.
"Doesn't matter either way. His reign is over."
"Time to move?" Vash enquired.
"The captain's captured him. They should have a front row seat any second now."
As if on cue, chaos erupted.
A shrill shriek erupted from the imperial palace as the balcony window shattered and a woman plummeted to her death, much to the horror of the crowd. An explosion followed a second later, decimating the top floor and dispersing the crowd in a storm of panic and rubble.
The captain emerged shortly thereafter, bursting from the roof tiles with the emperor in his grasp and soaring high above the palace.
Vash stood, stretched, popped her joints and tossed away the bone.
"Show time."
The general's palm shot out toward the city and a ball of energy swirled into being.
"Have you picked your targets?"
"Already got mine." Vash responded, eyeing the panicked crowd.
"Acquired." Mussul confirmed; eyes, hands, and knife glowing brightly.
Then an adolescent voice crackled through their speakers.
"No survivors."
The grand capital fell in a hail of fire and violence.
Two hours later, the cathedral stood as the sole survivor of the onslaught, but it bore its share of scars.
Two of its four spires had been destroyed and another stood crumbling, though one balcony remained miraculously untouched. It was situated near the peak of the remaining spire and it overlooked the now ruined capital.
A poetic location.
The Unit Captain stood, posture straight, and scowling in concentration as he typed away at his wrist display. He was young, barely mid-teens, but his skin held the rich tan of a thousand worlds; his hair was a thick, rain-soaked mane pulled uncooperatively into a banded pony tail, and a furry brown tail stood proudly behind him.
He tossed a tiny black ball to the edge of the balcony and a flickering hologram emerged a few seconds later.
Lord Coola.
"Mission accomplished." Chief declared. "The capital fell within an hour. The planet's yours."
The Supreme Commander towered over him, a figure of indisputable authority despite the lightyears between them, and his red eyes were vibrant and piercing, despite the flickering signal.
"And the emperor?"
He retrieved the bound figure and flung him before the overlord's feet.
The emperor was relatively untouched, milk-white skin and hairless features only mildly blemished by a few cuts and bruises, but the hollow eyes and near catatonic expression told tales of pain and defeat.
"We showed him what it means to defy you."
The defeated figure looked up at Coola, his expression unreadable but entirely bereft of the righteous defiance he'd previously exhibited towards the architect of his downfall.
Coola met the ruler with a look of cold indifference… then his eyes shifted to the Chief. A wordless command… and the Unit Captain duly obliged.
A second later, a piercing red beam passed seamless through the base of the emperor's skull, splattering blood and brain matter onto the balcony and bringing his reign to a visceral end.
"An occupation force has already been dispatched." Coola continued. "They'll arrive within a day."
"You need us to hold the capital until then?"
"Unnecessary, you have a schedule to keep. Transition arrangements have already been made."
"Governor Yii, right?"
"How did you guess?"
"He's got the army general on his side and he controls access to the planet's palladium mines; that's the military and planetary resources right there. If I was transitioning power to anyone, that's who I'd pick."
Coola couldn't help his faint smile.
"You've done your homework."
"Did you expect anything less?" Chief smirked. "Can we trust a guy who conspires to overthrow his own brother?"
"No." Coola stated. "We're trusting a man who believes he's about to lead his civilisation into a new galactic age, who believes he's about to become unfathomably wealthy, and who's just witnessed a mere fraction of his new lord and master's power. He'll do as he's told."
Chief nodded.
"Where is he?"
"In Kesh with the military general; I want his rule officialised and consolidated as swiftly as possible. As you can see, Atlus is no longer fit to serve as the planetary capital."
That made sense.
His gaze then shifted to the lifeless body and the rapidly reddening marble floor.
"What do you want me to do with this poor bastard's son?"
"Where is he?"
"In the main hall. Mussul's babysitting him."
"And his wife?"
"Dead."
Coola's eyes narrowed.
"Your orders pertained to the governor, not his family."
"You didn't tell me not to kill her."
"Now is no time for flippancy, boy."
Chief was resolute.
"You told me to make him suffer. She was there; I made him suffer. If she was important, I figured you would've told me."
"I would've preferred her fate remained a planetary affair. It was Yii's decision to make."
"Fuck Yii." Chief stated plainly. "He'll do what we tell him."
He met Coola's glare confidently as a contemplative pause hung over the exchange. Then a smirk spread over Coola's face.
The impertinence was always charming.
"I'll trust your judgement where it pertains to his son. We have more pressing concerns."
"Everything's ready for Earth?"
"The forces, the equipment, the ships, the armour. The executives have hand-picked the soldiers from each sector. All units are scheduled to arrive at the Sector 8 base tomorrow; our mission will launch from there."
Chief's eyes hardened in anticipation.
"We'll be ready."
"Will you?" Coola's tone was uncharacteristically song-like as his face broke into a humoured smile. "My council members speculated that you may be 'emotionally ill-equipped' to handle this mission… that your 'maverick tendencies' and 'genetic instability' would compel you to betray me when I kill your father."
His eyes bored searchingly into his unit Captain's soul. But Chief was unmoved.
"I'd say your council are only 'emotionally-equipped' to talk shit from the safety of their dreadnaughts."
Coola laughed.
"I don't need to justify myself to them, my record speaks for itself."
"And your father?" He added.
"My father died when I was six years old… My only attachment is to our goals; I'll do whatever it takes to accomplish that."
Coola studied him for a long moment before he responded.
"Good. You'll need this fire when you take on Vegeta. I've only met him once but he was single-minded in his quest for strength, like all pure-blooded saiyans. There's no telling how much stronger he has become in the intervening years."
"Not as strong as me."
"Your impetuousness reminds me of my brother." Coola countered. "And he was a fool."
"With all due respect, boss, I'm not like your brother."
"You've never met him." Coola countered "How would you know?"
The response was embarrassed silence.
"You are of similar strength, for sure, but also similar obstinacy." He continued. "I foresee greatness in your future; don't allow foolishness to prevent that from coming to fruition."
His young soldier's eyes hardened.
"I won't let you down."
"No. You won't."
"We'll be off planet and on course for Sector 8 within an hour."
"No."
The young saiyan's brows quirked quizzically.
"Vashon and Mussul will take the Bastard and rendezvous with the invasion force. You will take a pod and travel to our military base in Sector 32; we haven't received a transmission in three days. Captain Sauza was sent to investigate but he has not returned, you will find out why."
"Just me?"
"Just you. This incident has given me cause for concern, if there is something out there powerful enough to take down the captain of my squadron, I would not risk Mussul or Vashon."
"What about Bolo? He's stronger than both of them."
"Bolo will take a pod to Sector 30. He has his own mission."
Chief nodded.
"How long do I have?"
"A week. Regrettably, I've had to pushed back the invasion but-"
"We need to make sure all sectors are secure before we leave."
"Indeed."
Chief nodded.
"I'll get it done. Just make sure Vash and Mussul don't fuck up my ship."
Coola nodded before severing the connection, leaving the unit captain alone on the balcony.
He took a final lingering look at the now former emperor… head stained by a widened pool of blood, eyes vacant and locked on the ruined capital.
"Stubborn asshole…" He scoffed, then retreated back into the opulent cathedral.
The main hall hadn't been spared the onslaught either, with much of it reduced to rubble. As he descended from the balcony, Chief took a moment to appraise the artwork and architecture; lamenting the lack of opportunity to have seen it before their visit. Maybe he could've grabbed a couple of pieces too as a memento, before the fire and shower had laid much of the interior to a water-logged ruin.
What little remained was intricate and detailed, depicting gods and spirits holding dominion over mortals, who in turn reached towards the heavens. Much like the cathedral spires and capital buildings had reached towards the stars before Unit 54 had cast them down.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
The hall itself was now roofless and the rain had washed over the statues and elaborate interior. It was only a carefully erected shield of ki that prevented it from bathing the inhabitants as well. He still couldn't figure out how Mussul did it; the ki control was insane. But then that must've been unique to his species. The new recruit was also engaged in a spirited game of hide and seek with the emperor's now orphaned son, seemingly oblivious as the unit captain slipped seamlessly through the barrier.
Chief knew better of course; he was always aware.
The others, Vash and Bolo, were sat casually at the altar, a few yards away from a nervous battalion of city guards.
Probably part of the coup, Chief rationalised. Though, considering the perpetrators of the massacre were lounging so close to them, the nerves was understandable.
His own presence was also intimidating. Though unremarkable in height and a full head shorter than the majority of the soldiers, what little muscle his lean frame held was corded with strength. The conspicuous authority he had over his team was the most telling of his capabilities.
He eyed the small battalion briefly as they snapped to attention; noting the uniform, the energy guns, and the complete avoidance of eye contact.
Good. Fear meant obedience.
The lieutenant, for his part, was slightly more relaxed, at least on the surface.
"What are your orders?" Chief demanded.
"The prince, Sir." He replied. "The general told us to watch him."
Chief turned and eyed the prince briefly; pudgy, maybe three or four, utterly oblivious to the upheaval, and giggling as he chased the Unit's newest recruit through the ruined hall.
"New orders." He declared, turning back to the lieutenant. "The emperor's body's on the balcony of the north-east spire. Get rid of it and make sure the kid doesn't see him."
An uncertain look cross the lieutenant's features, but Chief's glare brooked no argument. The soldier nodded in compliance before scurrying off with his men.
Unit 54 rose to their feet on his approach. Vash in particular greeted him with a casual yet conspiratorial smile.
"Chief."
He reciprocated with a smirk of his own.
"Captain." Bolo greeted him with a formal salute.
Mussul followed suit, floating over with the giggling and squirming child under arm before bowing formally.
"I hope Lord Coola was pleased with our performance, Captain."
Chief nodded.
No sooner had the ki-lod set the prince down than the pudgy toddler ran off to hide on the other side of the cathedral; a ball of laughs and energy.
"We're done here." Chief stated. "Occupation forces are en route. The governor's setting up a new capital in Kesh."
"I assume the General is with him?" Mussul enquired. "It's been two hours since the assault but we have yet to experience any military reprisal."
Vash quirked her lip in annoyance until a stern look from Bolo subdued her.
"Yeah, the General helped organise the coup. The army's stabilising the provinces as we speak."
Mussul's brow creased in thought.
"Power consolidation?"
"Correct, Soldier."
"Means things are gonna get seriously bloody for the next twenty-six hours, rookie." Vash added.
Chief nodded.
"Get back to the ship, we leave in fifteen minutes."
"Are we headed for Earth?" Vash asked, eyes brimming with anticipation. "Cause I'm getting bored of these piss-easy missions."
Chief's eyes narrowed.
"Get back to the ship." He stated again, tone threatening. "I'll brief you all when we're in orbit."
Vash scowled in response, cheeks purpling in embarrassment.
"Aye-aye, Chief." She pouted, before taking off in a hail of dust.
Bolo shot him a knowing glance before following suit.
"What of the boy, Captain." Mussul enquired.
The kid had grown bored of waiting and started entertaining himself at the altar. Chief brows furrowed as he watched the now orphaned prince fumble happily with a small toy and an errant lump of rock.
"Captain?"
The wiry voice cut through his reverie. He glanced at Mussul briefly before turning towards cathedral's blown out entrance.
"He's a loose end." He began, stalking off into the rain. "Tie it up."
[AN] So… this has been a story on my mind for a while now. The "Gohan goes to space" genre is something I've seen attempted far less often than I'd like, so I thought I'd give it a shot.
Just a head's up, this is an AU, so, expect major, major differences from the original series…
[UPDATE: 27.06.20 - Chapter 1 re-write] If you're re-reading this story, you'll notice major changes to chapter one. Long story short, I wasn't 100% satisfied with the manner in which I originally introduced Gohan (aka "Chief") or the Unit members. I don't intend to make chapter re-writes a habit, and there haven't been any changes that alter the plot too much going forward, but this version is much more congruent with the characters I'm trying to portray and the story I'm trying to tell.
I've also amended the final section of Chapter 2 for a clearer, easier read.