Chapter 16: When She Stood with the Warriors
An exhausted Puar dropped back into her cat form, tongue hanging out to pant, in the relative security of a darkened side-corridor. They had been wandering the complex blindly for over an hour, discreetly trying to catch word of any activities that would pertain to the attacks on Capsule Corporation, or the abduction of Chichi. So far all that they had discovered was that they needed to investigate more. In the hallway only a few meters away, uniformed and non-uniformed military personnel bustled about, not noticing that the two common soldiers had suddenly become one.
"I can't do that again for at least ten minutes," Puar panted. "I shouldn't have tried to hold the form as long as I already had."
"It's all right," said her companion, distracted. Bulma looked everywhere but at the cat, huddled miserably in the pile of combat fatigues, scanning the hallway. "Ah, how's the leg?" she asked.
Puar looked to the bandage on her thigh. "Bleeding's stopped, I think, but it hurts. I've been faking the walk with a levitation trick, but I'm so tired now... I don't know if I can fly anymore, either."
"Give it time." Bulma paused beside a fuse box, pulling a screwdriver from her purse. "This will take me a couple of minutes, anyway... ah, good."
"What are you doing?" Puar nestled into the warmth that was spreading into the rags, eyeing the outer hallway suspiciously. Wouldn't somebody object to a GI messing with circuitry? So far, nobody seemed to.
"If I can find the right wires, I might be able to hook into the basic information network and shunt the data onto here..." absentmindedly, with her left hand, she popped a capsule, pulling a small electronic pad from the stash of junk that was deposited on the hallway. "And I think I've got it, right... here! Good..."
Bulma was silent a few seconds, scanning up and down, trying various linkages from wires; then she shook her head, quickly disconnected her wires and closed the fuse box, coming to sit beside Puar, who was by this point a mess of nerves. Tentatively, Bulma reached a hand down to pet the cat.
"Not too much good, but some good," she said, keeping her voice matter-of-fact, as if hoping Puar wouldn't notice a gesture of kindness. "I've got a map of the base-- look, central command, barracks, armories-- it's all here." She frowned. "Well, I guess the first thing we can do is avoid the central command at all costs! -- bound to be crawling with brass, and who'd keep a prisoner there? We're too close to it for comfort already! I say we head here--" she jammed a finger at the pad, "to the MP office. There's a back corridor we can take."
"I can't do anything for a little while," Puar reminded her. Bulma snorted, gathering the cat up in the folds of cloth and slinging the whole bundle over her shoulder.
"Who said anything about needing your help, anyway?" she sniffed. "Stupid Yamucha. He should have kept you there. You may as well go to sleep for all I need you."
Gratefully, Puar let her eyelids drift down, as they made their way down the corridors away from Central Command.
* * *
In the sideways cage in Central Command, Chichi gazed up at the limp Vegeta, dreaming of revenge.
The General had returned to duty, along with several lieutenants and the duty nurse to Vegeta, the same unsympathetic woman who had come in with him earlier that day. They had brought her food again; rice and turnip and some truly pungent dried fish, so hard that chewing it was like trying to chew twigs. They were still ignoring everything she said. However, she could understand why her words were hardly a priority; they seemed to be planning an attack.
"Omega targets have all converged in the Blue," reported a female lieutenant.
"And Beta?"
"Beta target is currently on radar," said a low voiced man. "He departed Blue at seventeen hundred, but is now returning. Some kind of speed he's got-- what's he flying, an F-16? It must be a very light craft, from the shadow..."
"Something like that," the General said. "Just track him, I'll sort out the details. The status of our plan?"
"Surveillance teams three and four were unable to get close enough to plant any devices without arousing suspicion, but the gas is ready to be deployed from our remaining planes, and units twenty through forty three are converged and approaching position, with the remaining units waiting in defensive locations," reported a lieutenant. "Should be at position at 19:30 hours."
"Good."
"He's betraying you," Chichi said, for the what felt like the twelfth time. "Tao. He came and talked to me. He didn't poison Vegeta for you-- he designed it so that he can take over this organization. He's only out for revenge. He doesn't care if he takes you with him!"
"We have no prisoner "Tao"," said the General, frowning at her. It was the first time he'd responded-- clearly, he was starting to feel confident!
Chichi jumped at the chance. "Whatever name he's using," she said, clutching the bars of the cage eagerly. She could see up the General's nose, and that he didn't shave under his chin properly. "Listen, how could I even know you have this prisoner who made the potion if he didn't come to see me? He's not under your control-- you have to execute him, lock him up better-- he's dangerous!"
"Most people are dangerous," said the General, smiling knowingly. "Don't toy with me, Mrs. Son; Mr. Crane knows which side his bread's buttered on. He's never given me bad intelligence. And don't assume you know more about what goes on in my base than I do! His locks were replaced last night." He folded his arms. "Mrs. Son, I'll be frank. Last time we spoke, you practically threatened to kill me yourself! Why would anyone in my position with even a grain of rational sense listen to anything you say?"
"Because he'll kill all of us," Chichi said, desperate, but the General had already turned.
"Get a camera feed on Mrs. Son, here," he ordered. "She's our ace in the hole. Order the troops to move into position. Target Beta?"
"Beta is T minus three seconds to location Blue," said the female lieutenant. "With the exception of the blue woman, all of our eggs are in one basket."
* * *
Gohan alit on the back walk of Capsule Corporation, textbooks under his arm. Without the new, puppyish growth to his limbs, he couldn't have carried so many easily in such a manner; the stack was considerably thick. Without breaking stride from his flight, he raced into the room, calling excitedly,
"Piccolo-san! Kuririn!"
Jumping into flight over a table rather than walking around it-- the sort of behavior Chichi frowned upon in his own house-- he whisked into the living room, plopping his papers and books across the floor in a great, but purposeful sprawl.
"I take it you found something," Piccolo observed. It would almost have been sarcastic-- had Piccolo put that much of a modicum of emotion into his voice. Gohan smiled benevolently, ignoring the remark.
"General Gao Katsu," he recited off the top of his head, flipping to the page that had held the relevant information. "Rose to the head of the administration of the scientific military liaison branch, was in the national news briefly over the affair of a crashed spacepod about ten years ago; he discounted it as an experimental craft from a foreign nation."
"Was that Vegeta's spacepod?" Yamucha asked, emerging from his corner.
Gohan nodded. "From what I can read of him, he seems to always have been in some way connected to military presence in paranormal affairs."
"Read, our affairs," said Tenshinhan.
"But here's the good part," Gohan said, finding his page at last. "Look at this."
Kuririn, Piccolo, Tenshinhan and Chaotzu, along with the still somewhat sheepish Yamucha, all bent heads over a heavily highlighted spread of tiny text. Inconveniently, this had the result of blocking out most of the light; however, the stoic warriors did not stray from their mission: to figure out what, exactly, Gohan had found so interesting on this particular page.
At last, Kuririn said, "err... so, to sum up...?"
"Oh! Ah... heh heh..." Gohan blushed, darting under Piccolo's arm to slam the book closed. Of course they wouldn't be able to figure it out from his own notes! Did Piccolo even read Earth languages? "Well, area 85 is generally believed to be in the northwestern 236 Mountain District..." He looked around at the blank faces, then continued, more slowly: "And the nearest unsurveyed region is the 237 District, which was marked on this geologic map as restricted for mining..."
The other faces still regarded him, blankly, although Yamucha's eyes, at least, were beginning to drop back from exhaustion. Gohan figured he'd better wrap it up.
"...but no major mining companies have staked a claim on any of the territory, which means it's private land that the government wants no-one to know that they own. Perfect way to hide a base, and it's terrain Gao knows from his days working with the bandit group in the 236. If I were him, I'd say it was a perfect place."
"So you think Vegeta's there?" Kuririn asked tentatively.
Gohan nodded. "Probably my mother too," he said, unable to stifle a silly grin. At long last, he would be able to find them and correct this awful mistake they had made. He knew he should be serious, turning his mind to the coming fight; but he was just so happy, happier than he'd felt since he'd found out Goten and Piccolo were still alive.
"Can everyone be ready to leave in five minutes?" Kuririn asked, going into planning mode. "The 236 mountain area is a good six hours by airplane, but we can get there much more quickly, I think-- especially Gohan and Piccolo, I'd imagine--"
Piccolo closed his eyes, concentrating. "Dende knows what we plan. Kid says he'll be watching over us."
Tenshinhan dropped to a crosslegged position. "What do you think-- a frontal assault by our best fighters seems best, for speed."
"Yes," Piccolo said. "We will try to enter the compound as swiftly as possible. You and Chaotzu will protect our flanks; Kuririn, Yamucha, you try to attack the back of their forces; that way every fighter works with someone whose style he knows."
"Heh... hardly anymore," said Yamucha.
"Wait!" Gohan said, standing up. He gazed at the others in consternation. "I should be the one to go. You shouldn't get involved!"
"Gohan--" Kuririn said.
"There will be plenty of opponents for all of us," Piccolo said, turning to lecture him. "It is no time to become greedy. They may be weak, but there are a lot of them. Remember they have defeated us in small groups before."
"No, that isn't it--" Gohan protested. The thought of hogging all the battle for himself had never crossed his mind-- it was almost laughable! Hog a fight? He didn't even want to fight anymore, at least not seriously! Or at least, he thought he hadn't, until something big was at stake: his mother. "No, it's just that-- this was my mistake. I should be the one to take care of it; you don't have to put yourselves at risk--"
Wordlessly, Kuririn came forward. Looking the trembling young man in the eye, he reached a hand out and put it on his shoulder. It felt warm, heavily reassuring; Gohan took a deep breath, wondering what Kuririn would say. Scold him, as Bulma had? He didn't think he could bear it-- not after baring his innermost feelings of responsibility, his culpability in the matter. Not after trying to shoulder the new burden that he knew must fall on him now that he was an adult.
"Gohan," said Kuririn. "We always stood together when your father asked us. Now, no matter whether you have made a mistake or whatever reason you have brought this trouble to us, we would stand with you. Not just for Goku's memory, but for yourself. You don't have to fight this opponent alone. Will you let us help?"
Gohan stood, mute. This didn't sound like what his father, what Piccolo had taught him-- true Saiyans fight alone. Through inner strength one faced one's opponents, in single battles, honorable combats as warriors. But then to think back-- Piccolo and his father, together, had defeated Raditz. Even Yajirobe had helped to take out Vegeta. And how could he refuse help when it was offered to him thus, like a favor he was granting the others? He suddenly felt rude, callous for having tried to refuse it in the first place.
"Yes, of course," he blurted out, shying away from Kuririn's hand. The bald man smiled, happily.
"Then it's settled," he said. "In five minutes, we leave. Who wants a snack?"
Yamucha and the others all headed to the kitchen, Gohan at the head of the fray-- eating was something he would always understand-- when a green arm extended farther than it should have been able to, catching him and holding him back from the others.
Gohan turned and faced his mentor.
"Your mother," said Piccolo, "Is the most foolish woman I have ever seen. But she is also quite clever." Gohan stared, waiting for Piccolo to continue. "Without all of this learning she crammed into your head, we might never have found this base. Even if we win with pure strength, and victory belongs to you and to her, not to any of us."
Gohan smiled. His sensei still thought he wanted the credit for the battle ahead. But he hadn't thought of it before-- what his mother had said, just yesterday, trying to cheer him up-- that lesson was coming home to roost, although not in the way she'd thought it would. He didn't have to bear the weight of the world on his martial prowess; his other endeavors were worthy, even in a battle. And he did not stand alone. His friends wouldn't even let him if he wanted to. Nodding at Piccolo, in acceptance of the value of his mother along with her flaws, he took his leave to grab a bite before departure. He would need his strength for the battle ahead.
* * *
The Military Police officer, from behind his meticulously organized desk, regarded the blue-haired GI with the strange backpack with suspicion. The soldier seemed a little too nervous. Then again, her bust was awfully distracting... a man in his position should have been mentally impervious to such temptations, but the way she bit her lower lip...
"Er, ahem... you say the prisoner has been requisitioned to be moved?"
Bulma nodded, relieved. It had been a long shot, but there was indeed a prisoner being held in the lockup!
"They usually send more... soldier, is that a... cat?"
"Uhm..." Bulma thought fast. "Yes?"
The officer shook off a momentary wave of dizziness as visions of fluffy critters and buxom women danced through his head. No, no-- the task at hand-- he had to get away from this woman!
He stood up quickly, moving towards the lockup, leaving Bulma to stand in front of the desk, waiting. As he retreated whistling, Bulma let her shoulders relax. The neon lights whined, flickering yellow over the corner of the desk. There were no windows.
"My god, if I had to purse my lips at him one more time, I swear..." she muttered.
As she let herself relax, checking to see that Puar was still sleeping peacefully, there was a sudden yelp from within the cell block, and pattering feet. Bulma leaned over the desk, trying to get a glimpse down the hallway, and had almost managed to get an angle- it was difficult with Puar dangling precariously off her shoulder-- when the officer re-entered the room in a panic, skewing the carefully organized papers all over the room and knocking Bulma to the ground in a mad grab for his radio.
"Central Control," he said, voice urgent. "Central Control, this is Lieutenant Shimada-- the prisoner, sir! He's escaped!"
Bulma, rubbing her hip, restrain her disappointed yelp: "He???"
* * *
The news hit Central Command like a panic attack. Before Chichi's bemused eyes, a calm and controlled military base became a frenzy. The two men who had just set up a camera on her cage were delegated by General Goon to come with him, along with the junior lieutenant, leaving only the senior lieutenant and two young officers running the central command. And Chichi could hardly blame the frenzy. It seemed Tao Pai Pai had escaped.
She knew where he was going.
Heart pounding, Chichi curled her legs into a tight ball. Curse the military idiots for leaving the central command and the prisoners with such a small guard! She'd just have to hope they would be sufficient; Tao must have learned of Vegeta's arrival, and was coming to claim his prize. All her waiting for rescue would have come down to this helpless moment: they would be too late. Vegeta would be irrevocably lost. Her shame would be complete.
Moments passed that seemed like aeons to the accelerated butterfly beat of her heart and mind. The corners of the room seemed to be stretching out their darkness like fingers to grasp the unconscious man who lay ailing on the bed beside her. He was beyond her reach.
Like gusts of wind, before her eye could catch onto a direction, three darts hissed across the room and into the necks of the military personnel. Two fell immediately; the senior lieutenant grasped hers from her neck, reaching for the comm, but by that time the assassin was upon her like a great, silent panther, striking her shoulder, then moving quickly to wedge an iron bar into the door.
Slowly, the room now empty of life but for the three of them, the mysterious man turned to face his victims.
"I know who you are," said Chichi, "Tao Pai Pai."
The man just laughed, relaxed, stepping forward with a menacing grin-- and she could see now that her guess was accurate. The fact did not console her.
"I never tried to hide it from you," he said, and stepped to the lock on Vegeta's cage.
"Leave him out of it," Chichi said, desperately. She was quivering with fear, but fool that she had always been, she just couldn't leave well enough alone. Couldn't just keep her idiot mouth shut. It would be the death of her one day, Chichi reflected, but shouted out: "Your fight is with me!"
Tao turned, letting a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. "All right," he said. Then, almost without warning, his foot lashed between the bars, striking her in the mouth.
She went down, stunned, her mouth a mountain of pain. Several of her own teeth had cut her cheek, and she tasted blood, then spat it onto the floor. Tao Pai Pai was laughing.
"An opponent in a cage," he said. "I like those odds. Just give me a minute to make them even better. I'm sorry for the delay, most honored opponent--" he gave a little mock bow-- "But what's a little more waiting to woman in your... position?"
Chichi pulled herself upright. The injury to her mouth was painful, insulting, but not serious. It was to shame her, she knew; she was no novice to the tactics of battle. Dishearten her, and there would be no fight.
But there already is no fight, she argued to herself. I'm in a cage. Vegeta is as good as lost. What can I do?
Tao Pai Pai dripped a potion into Vegeta's mouth. "There," he said. "This body will awaken in ten minutes-- but it won't be yours anymore, fool."
As Chichi watched, horrified, he closed his eyes, as rapt as Piccolo on his meditation. His pinky finger twitched.
At the same time, in response, so did the Vegeta's.
Chichi closed her eyes. She knew she should be horrified, but somehow what she felt was an overwhelming anger. Anger that he should humiliate her this way, to use her like a weak, powerless pawn. Was that all she had become? I can't do this, Goku, she cried out angrily in her head. I can't raise your sons. I am small, I am weak-- how could you leave me here so small and so weak?
Her mind strayed back, beyond her control, to the twenty-third Tenkaichi Budokai. She'd been angry then, too, so angry with Goku-- then so helpless when he had fought Piccolo, she could only stand, wide-eyed, clutching her mouth, wondering whether the future she'd only just won for herself would fall from her grasp as easily as that.
But she'd stood, not with the spectators, but with the warriors.
Yes, that had been her connection with Goku-- not love, not at first, nor a desire for children; but a kindred spirit, a love of the fight, of the chase; and a respect for the warrior she'd known he would become. A warrior like she had been. With shock, she realized then that this was also Tao Pai Pai's era-- when she had fought toe to toe with Goku, Tao had been one of his competitors. He was as much a relic as she! Why was she in this cage, and he the winner again? True, he was stronger than she was, but she could have had a chance against him. Won some more time against him. Matched wits and forms, if only she could have had the chance. The chance, she just needed that one chance--
That one small, golden ray of hope that had always come when Goku had needed it most. The anger that had fueled his transformations, the desperate need, the ability to change that ran in his Saiyan blood-- by what rights was her human anger less potent? Gohan's anger, after all, came from her, she knew. It was her own anger.
Goku, she thought, offering a prayer. Goku, show me how. I remember when I stood with the warriors. Help me to stand with them again.
Then, like the presence of the sun, like his presence in her strange dream before, she felt him around her. Not his voice, no, but his warrior spirit-- the connection that had first formed between them, the life force that was the spark of their children, flamed into being, connecting her to realms that mortals can only touch perhaps once in a lifetime. Suddenly she was bathed in his power, searing her skin-- the aura too hot for her nerves, as if every cell in her body was in childbirth to some ungodly being of energy, streaming from every pore in her skin. She opened her eyes-- her vision had gone blurred, and yellow, and she felt strong, ghosted with a might that was not her own-- her fist a child's fist guided by the strength of a parent's arm wielding it. It was not one of Goku's transformations, no, she could not have sustained the energy a Saiyan's body was capable of channeling-- but for just that second, what power he had in the afterlife he was now lending to her. If her body could withstand it.
Her form was glowing with borrowed power. She struck with the butt of her hand against the bars, channeling all the horrible, incredible fire into them; they shattered like crystal against the floor. She staggered forward then, fires guttering around her, body screaming in protest at the vast energy that her hour of need had forced on her. A little too much, Goku, she thought wryly; but stood up bravely, her legs wobbling only a little, and assumed a stance. The borrowed power, however she had obtained it, had deserted her; she felt weak, and somehow singed-- she would pay for the burst of energy later; it had drained her reserves, and she knew of no precedent for what effects such a transferrence would have. But for now she would have to fight on her own power, or what she could muster of it. However, there was no reason for Tao Pai Pai to know that.
The assassin was staring at her, open-mouthed.
"I said," Chichi pulled a hand back, lowering her balance into an attacking stance: "I am your opponent today."
She barely saw the two poison darts, ducking between them as they hissed by; one bore a hole in her sleeve. When she regained her balance, it was to see the assassin, Vegeta's body lolling across his shoulders, vanishing behind a panel in a dark corner of the room. So that was his secret door. The military personel had noticed the barred door and were shooting at the lock. Chichi grabbed the old Red Ribbon Army chip from the machinery in the corner-- too much information was on it to leave it in enemy hands, and she could deal with it later-- then ducked through the secret door, free at last, and in full pursuit.
An exhausted Puar dropped back into her cat form, tongue hanging out to pant, in the relative security of a darkened side-corridor. They had been wandering the complex blindly for over an hour, discreetly trying to catch word of any activities that would pertain to the attacks on Capsule Corporation, or the abduction of Chichi. So far all that they had discovered was that they needed to investigate more. In the hallway only a few meters away, uniformed and non-uniformed military personnel bustled about, not noticing that the two common soldiers had suddenly become one.
"I can't do that again for at least ten minutes," Puar panted. "I shouldn't have tried to hold the form as long as I already had."
"It's all right," said her companion, distracted. Bulma looked everywhere but at the cat, huddled miserably in the pile of combat fatigues, scanning the hallway. "Ah, how's the leg?" she asked.
Puar looked to the bandage on her thigh. "Bleeding's stopped, I think, but it hurts. I've been faking the walk with a levitation trick, but I'm so tired now... I don't know if I can fly anymore, either."
"Give it time." Bulma paused beside a fuse box, pulling a screwdriver from her purse. "This will take me a couple of minutes, anyway... ah, good."
"What are you doing?" Puar nestled into the warmth that was spreading into the rags, eyeing the outer hallway suspiciously. Wouldn't somebody object to a GI messing with circuitry? So far, nobody seemed to.
"If I can find the right wires, I might be able to hook into the basic information network and shunt the data onto here..." absentmindedly, with her left hand, she popped a capsule, pulling a small electronic pad from the stash of junk that was deposited on the hallway. "And I think I've got it, right... here! Good..."
Bulma was silent a few seconds, scanning up and down, trying various linkages from wires; then she shook her head, quickly disconnected her wires and closed the fuse box, coming to sit beside Puar, who was by this point a mess of nerves. Tentatively, Bulma reached a hand down to pet the cat.
"Not too much good, but some good," she said, keeping her voice matter-of-fact, as if hoping Puar wouldn't notice a gesture of kindness. "I've got a map of the base-- look, central command, barracks, armories-- it's all here." She frowned. "Well, I guess the first thing we can do is avoid the central command at all costs! -- bound to be crawling with brass, and who'd keep a prisoner there? We're too close to it for comfort already! I say we head here--" she jammed a finger at the pad, "to the MP office. There's a back corridor we can take."
"I can't do anything for a little while," Puar reminded her. Bulma snorted, gathering the cat up in the folds of cloth and slinging the whole bundle over her shoulder.
"Who said anything about needing your help, anyway?" she sniffed. "Stupid Yamucha. He should have kept you there. You may as well go to sleep for all I need you."
Gratefully, Puar let her eyelids drift down, as they made their way down the corridors away from Central Command.
* * *
In the sideways cage in Central Command, Chichi gazed up at the limp Vegeta, dreaming of revenge.
The General had returned to duty, along with several lieutenants and the duty nurse to Vegeta, the same unsympathetic woman who had come in with him earlier that day. They had brought her food again; rice and turnip and some truly pungent dried fish, so hard that chewing it was like trying to chew twigs. They were still ignoring everything she said. However, she could understand why her words were hardly a priority; they seemed to be planning an attack.
"Omega targets have all converged in the Blue," reported a female lieutenant.
"And Beta?"
"Beta target is currently on radar," said a low voiced man. "He departed Blue at seventeen hundred, but is now returning. Some kind of speed he's got-- what's he flying, an F-16? It must be a very light craft, from the shadow..."
"Something like that," the General said. "Just track him, I'll sort out the details. The status of our plan?"
"Surveillance teams three and four were unable to get close enough to plant any devices without arousing suspicion, but the gas is ready to be deployed from our remaining planes, and units twenty through forty three are converged and approaching position, with the remaining units waiting in defensive locations," reported a lieutenant. "Should be at position at 19:30 hours."
"Good."
"He's betraying you," Chichi said, for the what felt like the twelfth time. "Tao. He came and talked to me. He didn't poison Vegeta for you-- he designed it so that he can take over this organization. He's only out for revenge. He doesn't care if he takes you with him!"
"We have no prisoner "Tao"," said the General, frowning at her. It was the first time he'd responded-- clearly, he was starting to feel confident!
Chichi jumped at the chance. "Whatever name he's using," she said, clutching the bars of the cage eagerly. She could see up the General's nose, and that he didn't shave under his chin properly. "Listen, how could I even know you have this prisoner who made the potion if he didn't come to see me? He's not under your control-- you have to execute him, lock him up better-- he's dangerous!"
"Most people are dangerous," said the General, smiling knowingly. "Don't toy with me, Mrs. Son; Mr. Crane knows which side his bread's buttered on. He's never given me bad intelligence. And don't assume you know more about what goes on in my base than I do! His locks were replaced last night." He folded his arms. "Mrs. Son, I'll be frank. Last time we spoke, you practically threatened to kill me yourself! Why would anyone in my position with even a grain of rational sense listen to anything you say?"
"Because he'll kill all of us," Chichi said, desperate, but the General had already turned.
"Get a camera feed on Mrs. Son, here," he ordered. "She's our ace in the hole. Order the troops to move into position. Target Beta?"
"Beta is T minus three seconds to location Blue," said the female lieutenant. "With the exception of the blue woman, all of our eggs are in one basket."
* * *
Gohan alit on the back walk of Capsule Corporation, textbooks under his arm. Without the new, puppyish growth to his limbs, he couldn't have carried so many easily in such a manner; the stack was considerably thick. Without breaking stride from his flight, he raced into the room, calling excitedly,
"Piccolo-san! Kuririn!"
Jumping into flight over a table rather than walking around it-- the sort of behavior Chichi frowned upon in his own house-- he whisked into the living room, plopping his papers and books across the floor in a great, but purposeful sprawl.
"I take it you found something," Piccolo observed. It would almost have been sarcastic-- had Piccolo put that much of a modicum of emotion into his voice. Gohan smiled benevolently, ignoring the remark.
"General Gao Katsu," he recited off the top of his head, flipping to the page that had held the relevant information. "Rose to the head of the administration of the scientific military liaison branch, was in the national news briefly over the affair of a crashed spacepod about ten years ago; he discounted it as an experimental craft from a foreign nation."
"Was that Vegeta's spacepod?" Yamucha asked, emerging from his corner.
Gohan nodded. "From what I can read of him, he seems to always have been in some way connected to military presence in paranormal affairs."
"Read, our affairs," said Tenshinhan.
"But here's the good part," Gohan said, finding his page at last. "Look at this."
Kuririn, Piccolo, Tenshinhan and Chaotzu, along with the still somewhat sheepish Yamucha, all bent heads over a heavily highlighted spread of tiny text. Inconveniently, this had the result of blocking out most of the light; however, the stoic warriors did not stray from their mission: to figure out what, exactly, Gohan had found so interesting on this particular page.
At last, Kuririn said, "err... so, to sum up...?"
"Oh! Ah... heh heh..." Gohan blushed, darting under Piccolo's arm to slam the book closed. Of course they wouldn't be able to figure it out from his own notes! Did Piccolo even read Earth languages? "Well, area 85 is generally believed to be in the northwestern 236 Mountain District..." He looked around at the blank faces, then continued, more slowly: "And the nearest unsurveyed region is the 237 District, which was marked on this geologic map as restricted for mining..."
The other faces still regarded him, blankly, although Yamucha's eyes, at least, were beginning to drop back from exhaustion. Gohan figured he'd better wrap it up.
"...but no major mining companies have staked a claim on any of the territory, which means it's private land that the government wants no-one to know that they own. Perfect way to hide a base, and it's terrain Gao knows from his days working with the bandit group in the 236. If I were him, I'd say it was a perfect place."
"So you think Vegeta's there?" Kuririn asked tentatively.
Gohan nodded. "Probably my mother too," he said, unable to stifle a silly grin. At long last, he would be able to find them and correct this awful mistake they had made. He knew he should be serious, turning his mind to the coming fight; but he was just so happy, happier than he'd felt since he'd found out Goten and Piccolo were still alive.
"Can everyone be ready to leave in five minutes?" Kuririn asked, going into planning mode. "The 236 mountain area is a good six hours by airplane, but we can get there much more quickly, I think-- especially Gohan and Piccolo, I'd imagine--"
Piccolo closed his eyes, concentrating. "Dende knows what we plan. Kid says he'll be watching over us."
Tenshinhan dropped to a crosslegged position. "What do you think-- a frontal assault by our best fighters seems best, for speed."
"Yes," Piccolo said. "We will try to enter the compound as swiftly as possible. You and Chaotzu will protect our flanks; Kuririn, Yamucha, you try to attack the back of their forces; that way every fighter works with someone whose style he knows."
"Heh... hardly anymore," said Yamucha.
"Wait!" Gohan said, standing up. He gazed at the others in consternation. "I should be the one to go. You shouldn't get involved!"
"Gohan--" Kuririn said.
"There will be plenty of opponents for all of us," Piccolo said, turning to lecture him. "It is no time to become greedy. They may be weak, but there are a lot of them. Remember they have defeated us in small groups before."
"No, that isn't it--" Gohan protested. The thought of hogging all the battle for himself had never crossed his mind-- it was almost laughable! Hog a fight? He didn't even want to fight anymore, at least not seriously! Or at least, he thought he hadn't, until something big was at stake: his mother. "No, it's just that-- this was my mistake. I should be the one to take care of it; you don't have to put yourselves at risk--"
Wordlessly, Kuririn came forward. Looking the trembling young man in the eye, he reached a hand out and put it on his shoulder. It felt warm, heavily reassuring; Gohan took a deep breath, wondering what Kuririn would say. Scold him, as Bulma had? He didn't think he could bear it-- not after baring his innermost feelings of responsibility, his culpability in the matter. Not after trying to shoulder the new burden that he knew must fall on him now that he was an adult.
"Gohan," said Kuririn. "We always stood together when your father asked us. Now, no matter whether you have made a mistake or whatever reason you have brought this trouble to us, we would stand with you. Not just for Goku's memory, but for yourself. You don't have to fight this opponent alone. Will you let us help?"
Gohan stood, mute. This didn't sound like what his father, what Piccolo had taught him-- true Saiyans fight alone. Through inner strength one faced one's opponents, in single battles, honorable combats as warriors. But then to think back-- Piccolo and his father, together, had defeated Raditz. Even Yajirobe had helped to take out Vegeta. And how could he refuse help when it was offered to him thus, like a favor he was granting the others? He suddenly felt rude, callous for having tried to refuse it in the first place.
"Yes, of course," he blurted out, shying away from Kuririn's hand. The bald man smiled, happily.
"Then it's settled," he said. "In five minutes, we leave. Who wants a snack?"
Yamucha and the others all headed to the kitchen, Gohan at the head of the fray-- eating was something he would always understand-- when a green arm extended farther than it should have been able to, catching him and holding him back from the others.
Gohan turned and faced his mentor.
"Your mother," said Piccolo, "Is the most foolish woman I have ever seen. But she is also quite clever." Gohan stared, waiting for Piccolo to continue. "Without all of this learning she crammed into your head, we might never have found this base. Even if we win with pure strength, and victory belongs to you and to her, not to any of us."
Gohan smiled. His sensei still thought he wanted the credit for the battle ahead. But he hadn't thought of it before-- what his mother had said, just yesterday, trying to cheer him up-- that lesson was coming home to roost, although not in the way she'd thought it would. He didn't have to bear the weight of the world on his martial prowess; his other endeavors were worthy, even in a battle. And he did not stand alone. His friends wouldn't even let him if he wanted to. Nodding at Piccolo, in acceptance of the value of his mother along with her flaws, he took his leave to grab a bite before departure. He would need his strength for the battle ahead.
* * *
The Military Police officer, from behind his meticulously organized desk, regarded the blue-haired GI with the strange backpack with suspicion. The soldier seemed a little too nervous. Then again, her bust was awfully distracting... a man in his position should have been mentally impervious to such temptations, but the way she bit her lower lip...
"Er, ahem... you say the prisoner has been requisitioned to be moved?"
Bulma nodded, relieved. It had been a long shot, but there was indeed a prisoner being held in the lockup!
"They usually send more... soldier, is that a... cat?"
"Uhm..." Bulma thought fast. "Yes?"
The officer shook off a momentary wave of dizziness as visions of fluffy critters and buxom women danced through his head. No, no-- the task at hand-- he had to get away from this woman!
He stood up quickly, moving towards the lockup, leaving Bulma to stand in front of the desk, waiting. As he retreated whistling, Bulma let her shoulders relax. The neon lights whined, flickering yellow over the corner of the desk. There were no windows.
"My god, if I had to purse my lips at him one more time, I swear..." she muttered.
As she let herself relax, checking to see that Puar was still sleeping peacefully, there was a sudden yelp from within the cell block, and pattering feet. Bulma leaned over the desk, trying to get a glimpse down the hallway, and had almost managed to get an angle- it was difficult with Puar dangling precariously off her shoulder-- when the officer re-entered the room in a panic, skewing the carefully organized papers all over the room and knocking Bulma to the ground in a mad grab for his radio.
"Central Control," he said, voice urgent. "Central Control, this is Lieutenant Shimada-- the prisoner, sir! He's escaped!"
Bulma, rubbing her hip, restrain her disappointed yelp: "He???"
* * *
The news hit Central Command like a panic attack. Before Chichi's bemused eyes, a calm and controlled military base became a frenzy. The two men who had just set up a camera on her cage were delegated by General Goon to come with him, along with the junior lieutenant, leaving only the senior lieutenant and two young officers running the central command. And Chichi could hardly blame the frenzy. It seemed Tao Pai Pai had escaped.
She knew where he was going.
Heart pounding, Chichi curled her legs into a tight ball. Curse the military idiots for leaving the central command and the prisoners with such a small guard! She'd just have to hope they would be sufficient; Tao must have learned of Vegeta's arrival, and was coming to claim his prize. All her waiting for rescue would have come down to this helpless moment: they would be too late. Vegeta would be irrevocably lost. Her shame would be complete.
Moments passed that seemed like aeons to the accelerated butterfly beat of her heart and mind. The corners of the room seemed to be stretching out their darkness like fingers to grasp the unconscious man who lay ailing on the bed beside her. He was beyond her reach.
Like gusts of wind, before her eye could catch onto a direction, three darts hissed across the room and into the necks of the military personnel. Two fell immediately; the senior lieutenant grasped hers from her neck, reaching for the comm, but by that time the assassin was upon her like a great, silent panther, striking her shoulder, then moving quickly to wedge an iron bar into the door.
Slowly, the room now empty of life but for the three of them, the mysterious man turned to face his victims.
"I know who you are," said Chichi, "Tao Pai Pai."
The man just laughed, relaxed, stepping forward with a menacing grin-- and she could see now that her guess was accurate. The fact did not console her.
"I never tried to hide it from you," he said, and stepped to the lock on Vegeta's cage.
"Leave him out of it," Chichi said, desperately. She was quivering with fear, but fool that she had always been, she just couldn't leave well enough alone. Couldn't just keep her idiot mouth shut. It would be the death of her one day, Chichi reflected, but shouted out: "Your fight is with me!"
Tao turned, letting a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. "All right," he said. Then, almost without warning, his foot lashed between the bars, striking her in the mouth.
She went down, stunned, her mouth a mountain of pain. Several of her own teeth had cut her cheek, and she tasted blood, then spat it onto the floor. Tao Pai Pai was laughing.
"An opponent in a cage," he said. "I like those odds. Just give me a minute to make them even better. I'm sorry for the delay, most honored opponent--" he gave a little mock bow-- "But what's a little more waiting to woman in your... position?"
Chichi pulled herself upright. The injury to her mouth was painful, insulting, but not serious. It was to shame her, she knew; she was no novice to the tactics of battle. Dishearten her, and there would be no fight.
But there already is no fight, she argued to herself. I'm in a cage. Vegeta is as good as lost. What can I do?
Tao Pai Pai dripped a potion into Vegeta's mouth. "There," he said. "This body will awaken in ten minutes-- but it won't be yours anymore, fool."
As Chichi watched, horrified, he closed his eyes, as rapt as Piccolo on his meditation. His pinky finger twitched.
At the same time, in response, so did the Vegeta's.
Chichi closed her eyes. She knew she should be horrified, but somehow what she felt was an overwhelming anger. Anger that he should humiliate her this way, to use her like a weak, powerless pawn. Was that all she had become? I can't do this, Goku, she cried out angrily in her head. I can't raise your sons. I am small, I am weak-- how could you leave me here so small and so weak?
Her mind strayed back, beyond her control, to the twenty-third Tenkaichi Budokai. She'd been angry then, too, so angry with Goku-- then so helpless when he had fought Piccolo, she could only stand, wide-eyed, clutching her mouth, wondering whether the future she'd only just won for herself would fall from her grasp as easily as that.
But she'd stood, not with the spectators, but with the warriors.
Yes, that had been her connection with Goku-- not love, not at first, nor a desire for children; but a kindred spirit, a love of the fight, of the chase; and a respect for the warrior she'd known he would become. A warrior like she had been. With shock, she realized then that this was also Tao Pai Pai's era-- when she had fought toe to toe with Goku, Tao had been one of his competitors. He was as much a relic as she! Why was she in this cage, and he the winner again? True, he was stronger than she was, but she could have had a chance against him. Won some more time against him. Matched wits and forms, if only she could have had the chance. The chance, she just needed that one chance--
That one small, golden ray of hope that had always come when Goku had needed it most. The anger that had fueled his transformations, the desperate need, the ability to change that ran in his Saiyan blood-- by what rights was her human anger less potent? Gohan's anger, after all, came from her, she knew. It was her own anger.
Goku, she thought, offering a prayer. Goku, show me how. I remember when I stood with the warriors. Help me to stand with them again.
Then, like the presence of the sun, like his presence in her strange dream before, she felt him around her. Not his voice, no, but his warrior spirit-- the connection that had first formed between them, the life force that was the spark of their children, flamed into being, connecting her to realms that mortals can only touch perhaps once in a lifetime. Suddenly she was bathed in his power, searing her skin-- the aura too hot for her nerves, as if every cell in her body was in childbirth to some ungodly being of energy, streaming from every pore in her skin. She opened her eyes-- her vision had gone blurred, and yellow, and she felt strong, ghosted with a might that was not her own-- her fist a child's fist guided by the strength of a parent's arm wielding it. It was not one of Goku's transformations, no, she could not have sustained the energy a Saiyan's body was capable of channeling-- but for just that second, what power he had in the afterlife he was now lending to her. If her body could withstand it.
Her form was glowing with borrowed power. She struck with the butt of her hand against the bars, channeling all the horrible, incredible fire into them; they shattered like crystal against the floor. She staggered forward then, fires guttering around her, body screaming in protest at the vast energy that her hour of need had forced on her. A little too much, Goku, she thought wryly; but stood up bravely, her legs wobbling only a little, and assumed a stance. The borrowed power, however she had obtained it, had deserted her; she felt weak, and somehow singed-- she would pay for the burst of energy later; it had drained her reserves, and she knew of no precedent for what effects such a transferrence would have. But for now she would have to fight on her own power, or what she could muster of it. However, there was no reason for Tao Pai Pai to know that.
The assassin was staring at her, open-mouthed.
"I said," Chichi pulled a hand back, lowering her balance into an attacking stance: "I am your opponent today."
She barely saw the two poison darts, ducking between them as they hissed by; one bore a hole in her sleeve. When she regained her balance, it was to see the assassin, Vegeta's body lolling across his shoulders, vanishing behind a panel in a dark corner of the room. So that was his secret door. The military personel had noticed the barred door and were shooting at the lock. Chichi grabbed the old Red Ribbon Army chip from the machinery in the corner-- too much information was on it to leave it in enemy hands, and she could deal with it later-- then ducked through the secret door, free at last, and in full pursuit.