Chapter 8 - Action

Trunks took great pleasure in knocking out the night guard. He really craved a good clean fight, but pummeling the occasional arrogant human would have to sate him until he got everyone back to normal.

'IF I get everyone back,' Trunks thought. He shook his head, it was important to think positively. It was one thing to fail in a sparring match with is father, and yet another entirely to lose against a Reaver.

'I only get one chance,' he thought. Claiming the guard's belt, deathwand, and undershirt for himself, Trunks headed for the shadow of the nearest cabin. The deathwand made him nervous - one clumsy touch and all of his synapses would fuse instantly, but he was going to have to trust his life to what he could scavenge. There was no way to know what would be useful later on.

He also did not know how long the unconscious guard would lay unnoticed, but Trunks hoped that with the mindless bots on patrol, it would take a long time.

Trunks had always been good at hiding, but he never wanted to admit it. Hiding was for weaklings, and he was supposed to be a great warrior, with the potential to be better than his father some day. There was no time to worry about that now. Trunks knew he was playing the deadliest game of hide and seek on Earth, and he could not afford to lose.

The bots spent most of their time in the shadows, but Trunks knew about that trick already. It was their way of "outsmarting" would-be snoopers. He just hoped they did not have heat vision - it was so damn hard to avoid.

There was one just around the corner from Trunks. He could hear the small robot's motor whirring, but he could not tell from that sound what kind of bot he was dealing with. The robot had obvoiusly been designed to be silent, but only to human ears. Trunks smirked - obviously they thought they had rounded up everyone with excellent hearing on this planet.

'Well, it's helping me snoop around and do nothing, that's for sure,' Trunks thought, 'But it's time to pay Commander Goten a visit.'

Trunks stole a look around the corner of the cabin, praying the bot did not have a heat senser. The robot stayed motionless, but Trunks stared at the green telltales on its midsection. If they went red, he was finished. A few moments passed and the lights did nothing. Relieved, Trunks flicked on the silent energy sword, keeping it behind him so the yellow energy would not give him away.

In a blink, the night bot was lying in two sizzling hunks. Trunks had forgotten how fast he could be when his power was compromised. He had been trained to think that power meant speed, stregnth, intelligence, and victory, but Trunks could remember times in his childhood games where power was not an option. Bulma did not approve of energy blasts or flying while in the house. It had been interesting for Trunks, because Bulma's robots could sense ki energy, and Trunks had learned as a child to suppress it. His trump card gone, Trunks' insticts would take over and his senses would heighten. His father had disapproved of such "human" techniques, but Trunks was thankful for his childhood endeavors.

Two more sentry bots, and Trunks was outside of Commander Goten's quarters. This was the dangerous part for Trunks - he had never won a fight against a host. He had only been able to beat the creatures themselves. Goten had been his best friend, and the teenager in charge of the slave camp still looked exactly as he did the day the Reavers came. It was still hard for Trunks to believe that his light-hearted friend now had so much blood on his hands. It was not Goten's fault - he was not in control anymore, but Trunks wondered what Goten would be like if he ever got his mind back. Would he know what he had done, what had happened? Trunks hoped not.

There seemed to be no way into the Commander's quarters except the front door. Trunks did not want to go that way. He might as well announce his presence over the P.A. system. He also knew that the guard would be found eventually, and when that happened, the whole camp would go on alert.

Trunks had no idea why the Commander's quarters had no windows. Perhaps the Reaver did not want to have to look at the camp when it was trying to relax. Whatever the reason, it was not helping Trunks at all. Finally, tired of inaction, Trunks turned on the energy sword and stuck it through the wall of the cabin. It cut through the wood like butter, and it made no noise, but the electric blade grew brighter every moment - a perfect beacon to anyone looking for troublemakers.

Trunks could hear nothing from inside the cabin, but the soft whirring of several bots was heading his way. One more slice and the hole was big enough for Trunks' slight frame to squeeze through. He had to hope that the hole was too high up for the bots to navigate.

Once inside Trunks could see nothing. He stood perfectly still until his eyes adjusted to the dark, hoping that nothing was waiting to ambush him. Eventually Trunks' keen eyesight adjusted to the thick darkness. He noticed that a faint glow was coming from the walls, and an odd smell permeated the room - almost like the smell in his bedroom back home when he would leave wet towels lying around. Still nothing challenged him, and taking a calulated risk, Trunks turned on the energy sword once again. What appeared in the light was the most repulsive sight he had ever laid eyes on. The building was a cabin on the outside, but the inside was completely filled with slimy mucous.

Trunks gagged and blinked back tears of nausea. Now he really hoped Goten would remember nothing of this - it was just too much. He could see the silouetted form of his friend suspended on the other side of the room, surrounded by slime. Trunks crept closer, hoping to find a way to remove Goten of the Reaver before he woke up.

Suddenly, Trunks realized his error. The figure in the mucus was NOT Goten, but merely a camp slave. He whirled around, just in time to feel the shock of a stunner in his side.

***