Pazru and the doctor strolled
slowly down the wide hallway of the med-center laughing and reminiscing about
old times.
"—Well
then he fired a ki blast straight through the wall, nearly killing his mate and
child, who just happened to be in the next room!" The doctor threw his arms out to the side, illustrating with his
hands the size of the blast. Pazru
flung back his head and laughed, tears rolling down his face.
"So
what did you do then, Scleren?" he asked when he finally caught his breath.
"I
ran into the next room and hid behind one of the regeneration tanks. I figured that the way that Saiyan female
looked as she stomped over the wreckage towards her mate, hair half burned
away, a large ki blast ready to fire in one hand and the wailing baby in the
other, an all out war was going to break out in any second! And when I would be
found in the aftermath, I would be the first one to go into the regen tank
since I happened to be sheltering behind it!" Pazru wrapped his arms around his aching belly and slumped over against
the nearby wall, laughing so hard he couldn't stand up any longer. Scleren stopped beside him, mimicking the
sounds of the battle between the Saiyan male and his enraged, half burnt
mate. Then he bent over and grasped his
knees, his not too inconsiderable belly shaking with the loud snorts and
chortles of laughter.
The
doctor and his young student remained incapacitated for sometime, until
Scleren, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, offered a hand to Pazru and
shakily pulled the young man to his feet. Shaking his head in amusement, Pazru steadied himself and took several
deep breaths. "Yes, Pazru," Scleren
said, gently patting his student's back, "there's never a dull moment living
around the Saiyans." The young man
nodded in agreement and looked around at his surroundings, surprised to see how
far he and Scleren had walked.
The
med center occupied a considerable section of a massive complex of buildings
that included the pod departure and landing zones, the quarters of all
non-Saiyan personnel, a few seedy bars frequented by Saiyans headed toward the
pod departure area, and various storage and training rooms. Long drab hallways stretched for miles and
miles throughout the complex, connecting each and every section to all the
others.
Pazru had
been living at the complex on Vegetasei for several years now, ever since he
had begun his medical training with Scleren. However, during those years he very rarely left the section of the
complex housing his quarters and the med center, and had never ventured out of
the complex itself for the sake of his own safety. Now as he walked at his mentor's side down another long hallway,
Pazru realized, with a hint of alarm, that he was in a completely unfamiliar
area of the complex and had no idea whatsoever on getting back to the med
center. Fear coiled and twisted into a
cold hard knot in the base of his stomach as he rapidly glanced around, trying
to regain his bearings. He looked over
at Scleren, who had fallen silent for the time being and was looking unconcernedly
at the dull gray walls and humming, his arms crossed behind his back. "Figures Scleren would be perfectly calm
when any minute now we could be caught in the middle of a brawl between two
drunken Saiyans," Pazru thought as he scanned the length of the corridor
behind and ahead of them and kept his ears pealed for the slightest noise.
Scleren,
with Pazru following rapidly behind him, walked down one long stretch of
hallway after another, turning every now and then into another long
hallway. He hummed a tune as he
strolled through the labyrinth, seemingly oblivious of his young student's
unease. At the next intersection he turned left, walked for a little ways, and
suddenly stopped and slapped Pazru in-between the shoulder blades, enjoying the
expression of utter terror that crossed over the young man's face at his touch.
"Here we
are, Pazru, pod landing zone, but I bet you knew that already," the old doctor
said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Pazru collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily, one long-fingered
hand clutching his chest.
". .
.Y-y-yeah," Pazru finally managed to squeak out, still trying to catch his
breath. The two had stopped slightly in
front of a pair of large gray doors that opened to a long corridor that led to
the pod landing zones. Pazru, still
shaking slightly, slowly stood up and leaned against one of the doors.
Scleren
chuckled, hands on his hips. "What were
you afraid of, Pazru? You don't think
after all these years that I don't know my way around the complex? Still chuckling, he started to walk over to
the young man who was still using the doors for support.
"V-v-very
funny, Scleren," Pazru, voice quavering, slowly replied. "You could of ki—" Pazru's voice was cut off
as the doors slid open, making him lose his balance and fall forward into the
gap, arms outstretched in front of him. A large dark shape tore through the doorway, colliding with the startled
young man before he could hit the ground and flinging him against the far
wall. The dark figure blurred past him
down the hallway in the direction of the med center. Pazru slumped down against the wall, his head reeling from the
blow. A small trickle of blood began to
flow down the left side of his face from a large shallow cut on his forehead
just above the eyebrow. Scleren had
also been knocked to the floor by the rushing figure, but had not suffered any
damage. He slowly got up, shook his
head to clear it, and squinted at the retreating figure, which appeared to be a
tall, broad-shouldered Saiyan male with another slightly smaller male draped
over his shoulder. The unconscious
Saiyan's head, covered by a thick mass of unruly spiky black hair bounced up
and down with each step of the other.
The doctor
shook his head crossly and glanced over at Pazru. Noticing the blood running
down the side of his face, he immediately ran over to his young student. Scleren looked the young man over with an
experienced eye and helped him to his feet. Pazru leaned against the doctor, his head still spinning from the
blow. Still slightly disoriented, he
looked down the hallway where the figure had long ago vanished around a
corner. Feeling heat on the left side
of his face, Pazru lifted a shaking hand and rubbed the warm and sticky
substance from his cheek. Pazru's heart
quelled at the sight of his own blood coating the palm of his hand.
"Don't
worry, Pazru, it's nothing serious. We'll just walk on down to the med center and get you fixed up good as
new. Just stay with me," Scleren spoke
softly, struggling to bring the young man to his feet.
"Wh-what
happened? What was that?" Pazru said in
a quiet shaky voice that seemed to echo over and over in his mind.
"Hmmph,
nothing new," the doctor grunted in irritation. "It appears that Bardock has overdone it yet again and is in need
of a nice vacation in a regen tank. Surprised he hasn't been killed yet, the crazy bastard."
At hearing
the name Bardock mentioned, Pazru whipped his head back around in the direction
the figure had gone, and regretted it instantly as a galaxy of bright white
stars burst in front of his eyes. His
stomach gave a nauseating lurch, and Pazru struggled to keep from
vomiting. He scrunched his eyes shut
and took slow deep breaths until the stars cleared and his stomach
settled. He looked down the hallway
again. The walls wavered in duplicate
and triplicate as he stared.
"Bardock,
. . .but isn't . . . that . . .," Pazru trailed off as he collapsed,
unconscious, against Scleren, who desperately struggled to keep the young man
from hitting the floor again.
Finally,
after some difficulty, the old doctor managed to throw Pazru's limp arm around
his neck. He then hooked his free arm
around the young man's waist and began to slowly walk down the long hallway
towards the med center, Pazru's feet dragging behind him against the smooth
cold floor.
* * * *
Pazru slowly opened his eyes and was nearly blinded
by the bright white light above him. He
scrunched them tightly shut again and rubbed at them weakly with hands that
seemed to be made of rubber. When the
afterimage had faded Pazru attempted to sit up, finally succeeding in doing so
after the third time. His vision swam
from the sudden rush of blood from his head, and he nearly fell back onto the
table again. Disoriented, Pazru looked
around the small white room. His mind
was in a daze, he had no idea whatsoever how he had gotten here or why. He lifted one of his hands and began to
massage his throbbing forehead, trying to remember. As he felt the rough bandages that circled his head just above
his eyes, his memory slowly began to return.
"Doors . . . Bardock," he muttered slowly, trying to
jog his memory. There was something
important that he had to do, a nagging thought that revolved around and around
in the back of his mind in a gray haze. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately
to remember. "Baby!" Pazru's eyes snapped wide open and he tried
to leap from the table, but was stopped by a surging wave of nausea deep in the
pit of his stomach. He curled over,
arms wrapped around his abdomen, and waited for it to pass.
"Patience, Pazru," Scleren said softly. He rose from
his seat near the door and walked over to the examining table where Pazru sat.
"You have to take things more slowly. You got quite a blow to the head back there." The doctor, his face creased with worry, gently patted the young
man's back.
"How. . . how much time has passed?" Pazru said apprehensively. Eyes wide with fear, he turned around and
grabbed Scleren's arm. "Is there still
enough time?" he repeated even louder as he weakly squeezed the doctor's arm.
"Time for what? That crack to the head must have jarred something loose because you're
not making any sen—. " Ignoring
Scleren's irritated response, Pazru tried to stand up, but was quickly pushed
back to his seat on the table by the doctor, who began to speak soothingly to
him.
Head lowered, Pazru gritted his teeth in frustration,
Scleren's gentle words taking no effect on him. He clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap and suddenly
jerked his head up so that he was nose to nose with Scleren. "How long have I
been out?!" Pazru shouted at the old doctor, who jumped back in surprise, his
eyes and mouth wide with shock at his normally peaceful student's sudden
outburst.
Pazru, taking advantage of the doctor's stupor, tried
again to leap off the table and run past Scleren and out the door. However, his wound had seriously hindered
his coordination and he didn't get very far before Scleren snapped out of his
daze, grabbed Pazru's arms from behind, and dragged him back to the table. "You're in no shape to go anywhere,
Pazru. You have a minor concussion and
need some rest." Still struggling, his young student began to repeat himself. "You have been unconscious for a couple of
hours," Scleren quickly interrupted. Pazru let out a deep sigh of relief and ceased his frantic movements.
Scleren released his grip slowly and walked around the table so that he stood
face to face with the young man. "Now,
what's so important that it couldn't wait until you had rested?" The doctor, arms crossed in front of him,
cocked his head to the side and looked intently at Pazru, who nibbled his lower
lip, searching for a reply.
"Well, I . . . I . . . I do have other duties to
perform yet today." Pazru gulped and
looked to the side, searching for a lie that would satisfy the doctor. "Yeah, . . . you know, . . . my laundry
needs to be done . . . my quarters are a mess, and I still have to complete those
medical exercises you assigned to me yesterday." He trailed off, not sure if Scleren accepted his lie or not. His mentor was scrutinizing his face keenly,
looking for answers that Pazru was none too willing to give.
After a long pause the doctor, eyes narrowing
slightly, replied, "You're in no shape to be doing anything but resting." His voice was hard and commanding, and to
Pazru's distress, a little disbelieving. Scleren continued to study his student's face intensely for a few more
moments. His features suddenly softened
and he said more gently, "Come on, Pazru, let's get you to your quarters. I'll send someone along later to pick up
your laundry." He pulled Pazru's right
arm around his neck and wrapped his left around the young man's waist.
Pazru stood up slowly, relieved that his lie had
worked, and leaned on the doctor for support as they began to walk out of the
room. Scleren spoke again, "Though it's
not usually a tendency of mine to do so, I think that, taking the situation
into consideration, I will extend the deadline on those exercises I gave you
until you have received some rest." With a twinkle in his eye, Scleren turned his head towards Pazru and
continued, "Now don't you begin to think that every time you bang your head I'm
going to give you extra time on your assignments. You need to learn to take a few knocks in the head if you plan to
work with the Saiyans. Standing a safe
distance away from doors is a good place to start."
Pazru smiled and gave a weak laugh. He then returned his concentration to his
feet, which seemed to weigh a hundred pounds each. "Yeah, dangerous things those doors can be," Pazru replied. Scleren chuckled quietly from beside him and
steered the young man through the twisting corridors to his quarters.
* * * *
Pazru groaned. The last three days seemed to have lasted a
lifetime. Not only had Scleren confined
him to his quarters, but he had also posted a guard outside his door to make
absolutely sure that he didn't sneak out. He was sick and tired of pacing around his small room, thinking of ways
to sneak the nameless Saiyan baby off the planet. He didn't know why he had become so caught up in trying to change
the fate of the little brat, but he had given up trying to figure that one out
early yesterday morning.
"Now, maybe if I snuck into the nursery one night and
switched the two babies, Kakarot would remain on Vegeta and the other one would
be sent off the planet on his first mission. Oh no, no, no! I couldn't do
that!" Pazru tugged at his unkempt green hair and started another
circuit around the room, his brow furrowed in thought. "That would mean
Kakarot would be killed in his brother's place, and I don't want either of them
to die! Okay, maybe I could . . . No, no, that wouldn't work either." He stopped for a moment, tapped his foot
on the hard gray floor, and started to pace in the other direction, stroking
his chin. "Let me think . . .I could
sneak the baby into a pod already occupied by another baby. Yeah! That would work!" Pazru stopped pacing, a jubilant smile
on his face. "Yeah! Metako down at
pod departures does owe me a favor, and it wouldn't take very long at all for
me to slip the child into the pod. After takeoff, he would be safe-and-sound," Pazru's smile suddenly
melted off his face, " . . . until a fight breaks out between the two babies
and they either damage the circuits of the pod and go careening off into
space and right into a star, or they injure each other badly enough that they
are unable to survive once they land on the target planet."
Pazru
sighed and flopped onto his bed. There
just seemed to be no way to get the baby off of Vegetasei undetected. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and
scrunched his eyes shut, trying to ease the ceaselessly throbbing
headache. He wanted to find a way to
smuggle the child off of the planet and manage to avoid torture in the
process. The problem was, avoiding
torture and maybe even execution just didn't seem like a possibility with the
idiotic plans he was coming up with at the current moment. Pazru stroked the bandage covering the cut
on his forehead, deep in thought. His
eyes snapped open and he sat straight up, nearly voicing his thoughts to the
empty room.
"Bardock,
that's it, Bardock is the key! If I
tell him about his other son and what's going to happen to him, I'm sure
Bardock would do something to intervene. True, what Scleren said might be correct; Bardock may not care about
another weakling child. But, I would think that he would rather his son perish
on some hostile planet then have him murdered by a bunch of alien doctors."
Pazru rose from the bed and rushed to the
closet. He pulled on a fresh tunic and
ran his fingers through his long silky hair, pulling out the worst of the
tangles. He gave a quick glance at his
reflection in the mirror, and noticing his unkempt appearance, straightened and
smoothed the wrinkles out of his tunic, and quickly tied his long green hair
into a loose knot at the base of his skull, his long orange fingers working
deftly. He took another look at his
reflection and, satisfied that he didn't look like a lunatic anymore, decided
to make his escape.
Pazru walked up to the door and pushed it slightly to
the side, trying to be as quiet as possible. Through the small crack he able to see the guard, a dwarfish creature
with pebbly yellow skin and a pair of stubby horns, slumped against the wall,
fast asleep. Smiling, Pazru slowly
pushed the door the rest of the way into the wall. He crept silently out of his room and pulled the door shut. The guard stirred slightly at the nearly
inaudible sound. Pazru tensed, eyes
wide, and pressed his back against the wall, willing himself to melt into the
scenery. The guard shook his head
slowly, mumbled in his sleep, and turned to his side, his back towards
Pazru. Not believing his good fortune,
the young man quickly tiptoed down the hallway and turned the corner. The breath that he had been holding for what
seemed like an eternity rushed out in one long whoosh. Pazru raised one slightly shaking hand to
his face and wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. After regaining his composure, he began to
walk briskly down the corridor toward the regen tank room. His teeth clenched tightly, Pazru willed
himself not to break out into a run so as not to alert anyone.
* * * *
Several streams of gurgling bubbles spiraled upwards
from the oxygen mask, flip-flopping into each other as they made their way to
the surface of the tank. A few of the
bubbles clung briefly to the wafting strands of thick black hair covering the
head of the unconscious man floating in the tank before continuing their
journey upwards. The man was naked save
for several disc like sensors attached to his temples and nipples. A small oxygen mask covered his mouth and
nose, half-concealing a large jagged scar that ran the length of his left
cheek. Over the mask, the man's thick
black eyebrows arched down into a deep scowl. Below the mask, tan skin stretched tautly over lean sheets of rock-hard
muscle acquired from a lifetime of fighting.
Another stream of bubbles seeped from the edges of
the mask and began to slowly travel up through the green viscous fluid. The bubbles and slowly cycling liquid
distorted and muffled the voices coming from the room outside the tank. Two men, one seated at a computer panel and
the other standing slightly behind the first, talked quietly amongst
themselves, occasionally pointing towards a few pictures and a long list of
data displayed on the screen. Every
minute or two, the data would refresh itself, and the pictures would change,
displaying the physical status of the patient at one instant and several of his
brainwaves undulating on the screen the next. Both men wore concerned looks on their faces as they studied the screen
before them.
"This doesn't look good, Plenthor," the man sitting
at the panel said worriedly, pushing a glowing button on the panel below the
screen with one scaly green finger. Frowning
slightly, the other man leaned over the technician's shoulder and peered
closely at the two lines undulating slowly on the screen. His eyes widened as each of the waves spiked
sharply, interrupting the formally calm pattern.
The technician continued, running one of his hands
through his brushy red mohawk, his fingers coming to rest on the rough scales
covering the back of his head. "He is
physically sound, hardly a scratch on him actually, considering the difficulty
level of Kanassasei, but this," one of his fingers shot out and traced the path
of the spike rippling through the one of the waves, "shows me that Bardock is
far from being okay mentally. I've
never seen anything like it before." The technician glanced up at the motionless figure floating in the tank
and shook his head frustration. Plenthor followed his gaze and stroked his long, meticulously trimmed
beard, wincing slightly as he pulled a few of the soft white hairs a little too
forcefully. Deep in thought, he slowly
shifted his weight to his right foot and crossed his arms in front of him.
"And you say that this abnormality in the brainwave
pattern started shortly after he was placed in the tank?" Plenthor asked the lizard-like technician
after a few moments. The man grunted and
nodded in agreement in response to the doctor's question. Plenthor slowly walked up to the tank and
studied the portion of Bardock's face that was visible over the oxygen
mask. He turned around suddenly and
asked, "Malacca, was he unconscious when he arrived?" The technician nodded
again. "I assume that Toma brought him
in then." Another nod. Plenthor
chuckled quietly to himself. "Toma
perplexes me to no end, Malacca."
Malacca grinned, "I know what you mean. Whenever Bardock gets himself into some kind
of trouble that's ends up putting him in there," the technician gestured in the
direction of the tank, "Toma turns into the worrywart of the year." Plenthor snorted and shook his head in
amusement.
Malacca sobered somewhat and continued, "You know,
Plenthor, for a while back there I was afraid that we would have to break out
the tranquilizers. I have never seen
Toma so upset before."
"Well, Malacca, if what he and the rest of the team
told us is true, then I think that there was plausible reason for his
concern. Toma said that Bardock took a
weak blow to the back of the head from a wounded Kanassasei-jin and fell
unconscious soon after. It takes a lot to bring Bardock down; his power level
rivals those of the first-class Saiyans." That such a blow would knock him out
is very improbable." Plenthor began to
pace the room, his brow furrowed in thought. Malacca followed the doctor's movements, his reptilian features clouded
with concern. "That and this
disturbance in his brainwave pattern make me think that Bardock is in a much
more serious condition than we originally thought" he concluded grimly.
The doctor
walked over to where Malacca was sitting in front of the computer panel,
glanced at the screen, and shook his head in confusion as the spike rippled
across it again. "Malacca, in my whole
career I have never seen anything like it before. If I didn't know any better, I would say that Bardock's brain is
running at least twice as fast as normal."
Both men immediately quieted as they heard the door
to the room hiss open behind them and turned their focus from the computer
screen to look at the visitor. Pazru
stood uneasily in the shadows of the doorway trying desperately to come up with
a convincing reason for his presence in the regen tank room. Still uncertain of his story, but not
wanting to alert the doctor and the technician by staying to long in the
doorway, Pazru stepped forward into the bright light of the room, smiling
apprehensively at the two men.
Plenthor and Malacca relaxed visibly at the sight of
the tall young man. Malacca, looking
troubled, mumbled a greeting and turned back to the keyboard, his fingers
moving rapidly over the softly glowing keys. Plenthor slowly straightened, wincing slightly as the joints in his back
popped audibly, and turned to face Pazru, a forced smile on his face.
"Good afternoon, Pazru, it has been quite a while
since we have had the pleasure of your company in the regen tank room." The doctor slowly began to walk over to the
young man then paused and carefully adjusted the wide shoulder pads, very
similar to those found on Saiyan armor, of his tunic. Satisfied with the fit of the pads, Plenthor stepped up to Pazru
and extended one of his hands in greeting. Pazru did likewise and slowly shook the doctor's large calloused hand,
trying to remember the last time he had seen the man.
He had first met Plenthor sometime after he had
arrived on Vegetasei, and had done some brief training under his watchful eye
before being assigned to Scleren. At
first, Plenthor's quiet mannerisms had greatly confused Pazru, who had always
had some difficulty reading people, and had made it difficult for him to form a
bond with the man. Time had improved
his relationship with Plenthor, but Pazru was never as close to him as he was
now to Scleren. Even though Scleren's
motivation and all around charm inspired him more, Pazru had always harbored a
great respect for Plenthor.
However, Pazru could never say the same about the
doctor's partner and technician, Malacca. Pazru had to admit that the lizard-like man was very talented and
capable, but Malacca's constant nervousness, a quality he knew all too well
that he himself possessed, grated on his nerves and increased his own level of
stress. Plenthor seemed to get along
well with the technician, but Pazru knew without a doubt that had he not been
assigned to Scleren when he was, Malacca would soon have driven him insane.
Large amber eyes misted in thought, Pazru completely
missed Plenthor's question and stayed lost in his own world until the doctor
waved his hand back and forth in front of his face several times. A little startled, the young man inhaled
sharply, blinked a few times, and hastily said, "Forgive me, Plenthor, I've
been a little ill lately and things just seem to slip right through my
head." Embarrassed, Pazru looked away
and absentmindedly scratched at the bandage on his forehead.
"Of course,
of course, Malacca and I heard all about your little run-in with Toma." Pazru was caught by surprise when Plenthor
suddenly leaned forward and gently lifted the bandage from his forehead. The doctor carefully examined the wound,
lightly tracing the jagged edges of the small, scabbed over laceration with his
forefinger. Pleased, he smiled and
nodded his head once and let the bandage snap back onto the surprised young
man's forehead.
"Hmmm, yes, it's healing very nicely." Plenthor nodded again slowly and then
straightened, arms folded comfortably behind his back. He began to speak. "Pazru, I would like to
apologize for Toma's behavior. When
Bardock is injured—which, may I add is quite often—Toma tends to become a
little . . . ," he searched for the right word, eyes probing the ceiling for an
answer, " . . . excited." Malacca,
beady black eyes still riveted on the computer screen, snorted in amusement,
drawing a small smile and reproving glance from Plenthor. Pazru was slightly confused by this little
interplay between the technician and the doctor, but was inwardly relieved that
the conversation had so easily turned to Bardock with no lying whatsoever on
his part. At least, he thought with some trepidation, not so far.
Quickly, so as not to waste his opportunity to obtain
the information he needed, Pazru motioned in the direction of the tank and
casually asked, "So this is Bardock, huh?"
Plenthor, his expression grim, looked over at the
motionless figure floating in the tank and nodded without a sound. A long pause ensued during which Pazru tried
frantically to think of something to say that would move Plenthor to give him
more information than just a nod. Pazru
gently placed his hand on Plenthor's shoulder, causing the man to jump, and
asked quietly, "You seem very concerned about his condition, Plenthor. Are his injuries serious?"
The old man turned away from Pazru and silently stood
gazing at his patient, his lips pursed tightly in worry. If he had heard the young man's question he
gave no indication. Pazru stared at the
doctor's back, respectfully silent, understanding completely Plenthor's concern
for his patient.
Several moments passed during which no sound except
for the soft blooping and bleeping of the keys at Malacca's computer panel and
the quiet gurgling of the tiny bubbles in the regen-tank filled the room. The uninterrupted silence was beginning to
make Pazru uncomfortable and he wanted desperately to forget everything, the
child, his plans, everything, and leave the room. He gritted his teeth in resolve and began to repeat his question,
but was cut short by Plenthor's quiet reply.
"To be honest, Pazru, I don't know what is wrong with
Bardock."
Pazru froze in alarm, his gaze fixed on the
doctor. In his short time with the
Plenthor, Pazru had never seen the man so perplexed by a patient's condition
that he was unable to give a diagnosis. If Plenthor, one of the top doctors in his field, was unable to pinpoint
the nature of Bardock's injuries, then it was almost a certainty that Bardock
wouldn't survive. If this was true,
then all of Pazru's plans would be rendered useless, and the child would most
certainly be killed. His thoughts
spiraled down a dark pathway, and he began to doubt if he was even capable of
carrying out his plan.
Plenthor cocked his head to the side and looked
quizzically at him. Roused from thought,
Pazru hastily looked away, unsure of how to reply to Plenthor's ominous
statement. He grimaced and faced
Plenthor.
"So, uh, are you saying . . . no, um, well, what I
want to . . .okay, so is Bardock . . . no, that's not what I mean." Frustrated, his face bright red with
embarrassment, Pazru struggled to find the right words.
Absolutely baffled by his former student's behavior,
Plenthor stared at Pazru and raised one of his eyebrows in amazement. Even
Malacca looked up from the computer panel to look at the stuttering young man.
Aware of their scrutiny, Pazru's face turned even
redder and his words became even more garbled. He stopped talking and wiped away the thin film of sweat on his forehead
with one long-fingered hand. He then
shut his eyes tightly, clenched his fists, and took several deep breaths. After a few long moments, he began to speak.
"Plenthor, do you think Bardock will ever regain
consciousness?" he asked quietly and slowly.
Plenthor continued to stare at the young man. He studied Pazru's face, noting his wide
amber eyes and tightly pursed lips. He
gave a small smile and replied, "I am almost positive that after a few more
days of rest Bardock will be up and about."
"When will that be?" Pazru blurted out without thinking.
Plenthor narrowed his eyes and asked, "Pazru, since
when are you so concerned with the condition of one of my patients?"
Pazru, realizing his mistake, cringed and decided
that it was time to make an exit before he aroused too much suspicion. He absentmindedly began to rub the back of
his neck and laugh loudly as if he found the doctor's question the funniest
joke he had heard in ages. "Oh, no
reason, Plenthor. It's just that his
son was born a few days ago and I just thought I'd ask when Bardock would be
out of the regen tank so he could see the kid before he got sent on his first
purging mission." Plenthor and Malacca
stared at Pazru with a look of utter puzzlement.
Still
laughing, Pazru quickly pulled up the sleeve of his tunic and looked at his
bare wrist. His eyes widened in shock
and he quickly pulled the sleeve back over his bare wrist before either
Plenthor or Malacca could see that he wasn't wearing a watch. "Oh wow! Look at the time!" he said, still laughing. "I'd better get back to my quarters and finish my assignment or
else Scleren will put me on meal restriction!" Trying to be as subtle as possible, he began to walk backwards towards
the door panel. "It was great seeing
you two again, I hope everything goes well."
Before Malacca or Plenthor could say a word, Pazru
had pushed the button to open the panel, darted through the opening into the
hallway, and vanished from sight. Plenthor looked over at Malacca and the two stared at each other for a
few moments. Plenthor finally broke the
silence. "That boy just keeps getting
stranger and stranger every time I see him." Malacca nodded in agreement and turned back to the computer panel. Plenthor shook his head slowly in amusement,
and then turned his attention back to his patient.