Undiscovered Territory
CHAPTER NINE: Experimental Undertones
Back on Earth, Dende had gotten used to a sound that he had once found most strange. It came from an Earthling device called a clock, which they used to measure the time in a day. His people had little use for such things; they kept their time by watching the multiple suns that danced across their skies.
That sound that he had gotten used to was a constant ticking. He would always pay particular attention to it during those terrifying dark hours that had come upon the planet in a regular cycle. It was not a comforting sound; rather it drove him near to madness, seeming to magnify the scope and duration of the darkness. But he'd had little else to do in such times, and so it became an unwelcome focus to his thoughts.
The ticking was not present here, for there were none of those devices in this laboratory, but Dende heard it nonetheless. It was a sound purely imagined and trapped inside of his mind, bringing old feelings of fear to mix in with the new. Time seemed to be passing so slowly here, almost like it was not moving at all. And the horrible spectre of Doctor Gneiss and the not quite so horrible spectre of her assistant Scree loomed large over him, the symbols of a seemingly inescapable fate.
And as it happened, one of those spectres made its entrance a moment later.
Dende sat up abruptly, pushing Scargo behind him in a vague and rather foolish attempt to protect his little brother; after all, anyone who entered this lab knew that he was there. Still, Dende would rather have himself taken for more experiments than Scargo taken for any at all. Maybe he would be taken again as a matter of pure convenience.
Upon seeing which of the terrible spectres had entered, Dende relaxed marginally. It was only Scree, and not the doctor. Dende almost breathed a sigh of relief, but he quelled it. Having Scree here as opposed to Doctor Gneiss was an improvement, but not necessarily a good thing in and of itself. The man, for all that he looked more frightening than the doctor, with his bulbous body and bulging eyes, was not quite as cruel. Or at least, he showed a little bit of remorse for whatever actions that he had committed in the name of science.
"Just stay where you are, little ones. The doctor will be here in a few moments," Scree said in a voice that Dende sensed was trying to be soothing. Unfortunately, it was not doing a very good job. The very mention of the doctor froze his blood, and he felt Scargo's hand tightly grip the back of his clothing, even catching and pinching some of his skin. The pain, however, was negligible.
Dende noticed for the first time that Scree carried a bottle of some clear liquid in one hand. The man quickly punched in the control code for the barrier that kept him and Scargo trapped, and lightly tossed the bottle at Dende, who caught it with relative ease. He glanced at it warily. What sort of vile substance was to be administered to them now? Did they actually expect them to ingest it willingly?
He looked up just in time to see the barrier flash bright red, indicating that it had been re-armed. In a voice cautious and suspicious, he asked, "What's this?"
Scree tilted his head at him, eyes seeming to bulge even further out of his head. Though this expression was quite strange to see, Dende could determine it as something resembling confusion. "Why it's water, little one. What would you expect it to be?"
"Oh yeah?" a somewhat high voice piped up. Dende turned and looked over his shoulder to find Scargo peeking out from behind him. It was quite the shock; where had this sudden burst of insane courage come from? "How do we know that's not some kinda horrible poison or somethin'? Dende told me some of what you did to him . . ."
Scree's huge eyes narrowed a bit at this words, and with this action Scargo's voice trailed off. The courage had been interesting while it lasted, but Dende was actually sort of glad that it was gone, now; Scargo might get hurt less if he just stayed a bit more meek.
"Little one, we've neither reason nor intention to do such a thing," Scree countered at last. Was that annoyance in his voice, or hurt? Both, perhaps?
Slowly, Dende pried the cap off of the bottle, and held the opening up to his nose. He took a few careful sniffs. Nothing. Absolutely no scent at all. This, he supposed, was probably a good sign. Still, he was tense as he lowered the bottle to his mouth and took a sip of the liquid inside.
He sagged in relief; it was water.
"Scargo, it's okay," he said, turning slightly to hand the bottle to his brother. "It really is water. Here, have some."
Scargo still looked suspicious and frightened, but reluctantly took the bottle in hand anyway; he knew that Dende would never give it to him if there were any harm involved. At first, he took a tentative sip, then larger gulps until he finished a full half of the bottle and handed it back to Dende.
"It surprises me that you have so little trust in me, children," Scree said as Dende downed the other half of the bottle. "I've yet to lie to you. Even Doctor Gneiss has yet to do such a thing."
That had some truth to it, Dende had to admit. He could not recall Scree having uttered an untrue word. As for Doctor Gneiss . . . Well, the same actually did go for her, but that was only because she was the type that didn't care that she frightened people. It certainly wasn't out of any moral concerns. If she had any moral concerns, she would not be conducting scientific experiments upon children.
Dende was about to respond to this statement, but another voice cut in before he could speak.
"Are you finished yet having a conversation with the subjects?" came the cool tone of Doctor Gneiss. Her deceptively harmless looking frame casually strode into the room, coming up behind her assistant. "These are only experiments, you know. They're not something to get attached to. Just get the smaller one out of there; I'm going to want to do a comparison sample."
"As you wish, Doctor." Scree's hand reached in as Doctor Gneiss temporarily shut down the barrier.
"No, wait!" Dende cried, trying harder to impose himself in the way. "You can't –"
Abruptly, Dende felt himself being shoved backward, into the wall behind him as Scargo was yanked away. He hit the wall with a light thud that only knocked some of his breath from him, but not all. Gritting his teeth, he put a hand to his shoulder, the one previously injured and that had borne the brunt of the push. Doctor Gneiss stood in front of him, her arm still extended, and irritation sparking in her flat blue eyes.
The barrier was back in place before he could react any further. Dende could only watch helplessly as Scargo was dragged across the room, trying unsuccessfully to kick at Scree's legs; all he was able to do was lose his balance.
"No! Let go of me! Let me go!" Scargo shouted over and over as accompaniment to his struggles. "Let me go!"
Doctor Gneiss held her hands over her ears. "By the Empire, this kid is loud! Ready the sedative as soon as we're inside; something has to shut him up."
A lump of fear dropped into Dende's stomach; his brother was going to endure things in the same manner that he had. It was the most unpleasant thought possible, and it just kept getting worse and worse after the door whooshed shut behind them.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Unseen even by those flying about in a search, many dark figures scoured their way across the planet. Not that those searchers were never near to them, but they managed to duck out of sight should any of them come too close. Their orders were to maintain stealth; some of the species were capable warriors, and the dark figures did not officially qualify as such. It would be foolhardy to launch a full scale, blatant attack. This was not their way, and certainly not their commander's way.
And so these figures kept to the few shadows that they could find in this world caught in the grip of a never-ending day. They huddled beneath cliffs, and some of them in copses of trees. Once, they had tried hiding in caves, but had been discovered by some of the searchers. Fortunately for those hidden, they were concealed well enough for them to kill the searchers before they realized that anything had happened. While this was effective, it was also quite messy and conspicuous, and thus none hid in caves any longer.
They did not have any true specific destination in mind, but their orders were to first investigate the villages. Their commander was interested in a particular set of artifacts, though for what reason was not known. The one who had dared to ask was currently being swept off the floor of the ship. There were no more questions after that.
That did not mean that there was no speculation about the reasons. After all, they were not robots, programmed to blindly follow orders. But none of these speculations were ever aired, for many feared that the commander would somehow find out about their words and thus punish them. It was not a risk that they were willing to take.
Villages seemed few and far between on this world, generating a sort of frustration in many of the dark figures. How could they complete their mission if they could not find any settlements to search? The commander would be most displeased at their failure. All they could do was keep searching, and hope to come upon their goal. For all they knew, their lives depended upon it.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Time went by even slower now that he was alone. The seconds and minutes were measured in the worries and images of what his brother was enduring at the hands of Doctor Gneiss. And they played through his mind almost as still pictures, barely moving at all and needed close scrutiny to even discern that much. They were terrible to look at, but he could not shut them out; they were in his mind, not the outside world and were thus immune to his eyes. The only respite that he had was that there was no accompanying sound to these images. Or was that such a good thing after all?
Dende wrung his hands nervously, so hard that he was straining his wrists, and he chewed on his bottom lip. Both were nervous habits he thought that he had long ago quelled. And perhaps he had, and this was only a relapse because of the desperate air of the situation. But did not much concern him. What did concern him was what was happening to Scargo in there. It had to have been a long time, longer than Dende himself had spent in there, though admittedly he did not know how long that had been.
Out. They had to get out. Though he himself had escaped harm, Dende was not about to bet on this for any long period of time. If Scargo had indeed been in there for longer than he had been, then he might have undergone something extra and far, far worse. As soon as he was returned to their confinement, he had to have a way for them to get out of here.
For the first time in a while, he found himself alone in this room and in good enough health to do something. As soon as he figured out what that something was, then he would be all set. If he could just think of some way to get through that barrier . . .
He had to test it. If he could just set his mind to blocking away as much pain as possible, then perhaps he would be able to make it through. Unsteadily, for there was still that hole within his leg, Dende rose to his feet, staring straight ahead of him. All he could see was the dull grey of the room and the tables still stocked with various scientific implements. The barrier was there though, invisible, mocking. Dende took a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain . . .
No. He let out his breath and shook his head. Bracing for it was not going to help him; anticipating pain only made it worse in the long run.
With this in mind, he closed his eyes, and envisioned his village, the place that only recently he had found so utterly boring. Now it was a soothing refuge to his presence in this awful place. He could see the pristine white houses, looking like snail shells half sunk into the ground. And outside of them were various villagers wiping them with rags so that they stayed in their pristine state. A few others tended gardens of Ajisa plants, and the children sat around at various outdoor tables, playing lively games of poker.
The image firmly imprinted upon his thoughts, releasing his tension, Dende took a few slow steps forward to the barrier.
"Augh!" He bit back the cry as much as he could, but was unable to prevent it from escaping his lips. For a brief second, he tried to hang on – his eyes had flown open and he could see that he'd made it further than any time previous. Just a little further and he would have done it . . .
But he couldn't. His body jerked backward instinctively, removing him from the source of the agony, and he fell flat on his back, panting. Too much. It had been too much even then, when he had gotten so close.
A whoosh drew his attention, and he sat up abruptly, trying to appear unshaken. He would rather not have anyone know that he'd yet again tried to break through the barrier.
A lump caught in his throat at the sight that greeted him, and this greeting was not a pleasant one. That it was Scree lessened the grimness of the sight, but not by very much. Scargo hung limp in his chubby arms, eyes closed, even antennae drooping. While Dende supposed that his younger brother looked peaceful, it was more the kind of peace that he was worried about. He hoped that it wasn't the eternal kind.
He was too weary, too frightened to move as the barrier was once again temporarily disabled to place Scargo back inside; the younger Namek's head lolled to the side as he was gently set upon the floor.
Scree must have caught the concern in Dende's expression, for he offered up a few words on the matter. "Have no worries about him, little one. Nothing more was done to him than was done to you. The only difference is that you were quicker to recover from the sedative."
Dende heard these words, but did not lift his head to face the speaker. Instead, he kept his eyes upon his brother, not wholly soothed by the assistant's statement. What did it matter anyway, that Dende had been quicker to recover from the sedative? That meant that it had a greater effect upon Scargo, and who knew how dangerous that might turn out to be?
Furtively, Dende glanced about. Scree had apparently left the room at some point, as he could see no sign of him anywhere, and he had yet to see Doctor Gneiss. There was a break here, long enough perhaps for him to try something.
Determined, Dende rolled up his sleeves and cast one last survey of the room. When he found it to still be clear, he placed his hands over Scargo's chest. He closed his eyes once more, searching within his brother's body for the source of his current state. Dende was not quite sure if he could do anything in this case, as he'd only tried his power upon physical injury. Well, there had been one time that he had tried it upon a quite ill elder, and he'd had no success. His healing powers did not extend to curing diseases. This here was a grey area; there was no wound that he could find, but there was a foreign substance forced into Scargo and was causing him harm. It was worth a shot.
But he had to probe deeper, for he'd not yet found anything amiss. And while he probed deeper, he leaned closer in, his arms bending as he did so, as though that would help him somehow. It was a strange, nonsensical impulse, but he had nothing to lose by following it. On the off chance that it actually did something to help, he was not about to risk anything because of some sense of foolishness.
At last, he did finally feel something untoward, and it was a strangely relieving experience. Strange, because he was actually happy to have found something physically wrong with his own brother. It meant that he might truly be able to do something for him.
And so he bent down yet more, his elbows further pushing out to the side as he called upon his power. A bright light sprung up, discernable to even his tightly shut eyes. But, assuming that this was merely his healing aura and nothing more, Dende paid this no mind.
He was able to mend a vein here, and a blood vessel there, before a voice startled him out of healing mode and he jumped back in surprise. He noticed a brief flash as he did so, but had no time to think on it.
"Just how did you do that?" Doctor Gneiss' curious tone matched the expression on her face. It was, quite frankly, the least scary looking that Dende had ever seen her.
But the situation scared him enough on its own. How much had she seen? Had she caught him using his healing powers? "I . . . I . . . uhm . . ." Dende fumbled for words, searching for some way to explain away his actions without her getting suspicious. All that he could come up with was the lame question, "How did I do what?"
The doctor frowned. "You don't know?" She paused for a moment, her head tilting to the side in curiosity. "Hmm. Well, that will have to bear some future study."
Dende was surprised to see the doctor exit the lab after those words, uttering no more as he thought that she would. No persistent demands of how he had done something that she did not understand. It was at the same time a relief, and a sign of greater trouble. Sounded like he would be slated for some more in depth testing whenever she next returned.
Without a thought of suppressing the action, Dende shivered at the prospect. And he was so frightened at this image that he was startled by the soft voice behind him.
"Dende?"
He jumped a little, but gazed down to see Scargo looking at him with half lidded eyes. There was a bit of confusion in that sleepy expression, but it was mostly overridden with happiness. Dende smiled in return, pleased to see that his efforts had worked to at least some degree, but also that they did not become visible until Doctor Gneiss had left the laboratory.
"Hey, Scargo," Dende returned in a similar tone, soft and gentle. "Are you okay?"
Scargo blinked a few times, as though his lids were to heavy for him to keep lifted. At last, he managed an answer. "Yeah . . ."
And these were the only words that he managed to utter before his eyes closed completely, his chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm with his breathing. Asleep, and soundly so from the looks of it.
While he would have preferred to have been able to talk to his brother, Dende's mood did not darken at the suddenly slumbering form. Scargo had no doubt been through a lot, and was in dire need of a proper rest. Things were better for both of them this way. The rest would improve Scargo's condition, and Dende had the time to think on such matters as escape once more.
A realization struck him abruptly, and he shot straight up in surprise. That light that he had briefly seen when Doctor Gneiss' voice had startled him . . . He had thought that he'd merely caught sight of his healing aura winking out, which had happened a few times before in his life, but he realized that this just couldn't be true. His healing aura was yellow, and the light that he had seen had been red. The colour of the barrier.
How could he have touched the barrier – he had to have done so, otherwise it would not have flared up – and not felt any pain from it? One of his elbows must have caught the edge of it as he'd leaned closer in to Scargo, and he hadn't felt a thing.
Slowly, an explanation began to form in his head, giving him a thrill of hope that he'd not had since he and Scargo had been captured. Perhaps there was a way, after all. He had only to test this theory . . .
A weak, tentative smile tugged at Dende's lips as he rolled up his sleeves once more. Here went nothing.
CHAPTER NINE: Experimental Undertones
Back on Earth, Dende had gotten used to a sound that he had once found most strange. It came from an Earthling device called a clock, which they used to measure the time in a day. His people had little use for such things; they kept their time by watching the multiple suns that danced across their skies.
That sound that he had gotten used to was a constant ticking. He would always pay particular attention to it during those terrifying dark hours that had come upon the planet in a regular cycle. It was not a comforting sound; rather it drove him near to madness, seeming to magnify the scope and duration of the darkness. But he'd had little else to do in such times, and so it became an unwelcome focus to his thoughts.
The ticking was not present here, for there were none of those devices in this laboratory, but Dende heard it nonetheless. It was a sound purely imagined and trapped inside of his mind, bringing old feelings of fear to mix in with the new. Time seemed to be passing so slowly here, almost like it was not moving at all. And the horrible spectre of Doctor Gneiss and the not quite so horrible spectre of her assistant Scree loomed large over him, the symbols of a seemingly inescapable fate.
And as it happened, one of those spectres made its entrance a moment later.
Dende sat up abruptly, pushing Scargo behind him in a vague and rather foolish attempt to protect his little brother; after all, anyone who entered this lab knew that he was there. Still, Dende would rather have himself taken for more experiments than Scargo taken for any at all. Maybe he would be taken again as a matter of pure convenience.
Upon seeing which of the terrible spectres had entered, Dende relaxed marginally. It was only Scree, and not the doctor. Dende almost breathed a sigh of relief, but he quelled it. Having Scree here as opposed to Doctor Gneiss was an improvement, but not necessarily a good thing in and of itself. The man, for all that he looked more frightening than the doctor, with his bulbous body and bulging eyes, was not quite as cruel. Or at least, he showed a little bit of remorse for whatever actions that he had committed in the name of science.
"Just stay where you are, little ones. The doctor will be here in a few moments," Scree said in a voice that Dende sensed was trying to be soothing. Unfortunately, it was not doing a very good job. The very mention of the doctor froze his blood, and he felt Scargo's hand tightly grip the back of his clothing, even catching and pinching some of his skin. The pain, however, was negligible.
Dende noticed for the first time that Scree carried a bottle of some clear liquid in one hand. The man quickly punched in the control code for the barrier that kept him and Scargo trapped, and lightly tossed the bottle at Dende, who caught it with relative ease. He glanced at it warily. What sort of vile substance was to be administered to them now? Did they actually expect them to ingest it willingly?
He looked up just in time to see the barrier flash bright red, indicating that it had been re-armed. In a voice cautious and suspicious, he asked, "What's this?"
Scree tilted his head at him, eyes seeming to bulge even further out of his head. Though this expression was quite strange to see, Dende could determine it as something resembling confusion. "Why it's water, little one. What would you expect it to be?"
"Oh yeah?" a somewhat high voice piped up. Dende turned and looked over his shoulder to find Scargo peeking out from behind him. It was quite the shock; where had this sudden burst of insane courage come from? "How do we know that's not some kinda horrible poison or somethin'? Dende told me some of what you did to him . . ."
Scree's huge eyes narrowed a bit at this words, and with this action Scargo's voice trailed off. The courage had been interesting while it lasted, but Dende was actually sort of glad that it was gone, now; Scargo might get hurt less if he just stayed a bit more meek.
"Little one, we've neither reason nor intention to do such a thing," Scree countered at last. Was that annoyance in his voice, or hurt? Both, perhaps?
Slowly, Dende pried the cap off of the bottle, and held the opening up to his nose. He took a few careful sniffs. Nothing. Absolutely no scent at all. This, he supposed, was probably a good sign. Still, he was tense as he lowered the bottle to his mouth and took a sip of the liquid inside.
He sagged in relief; it was water.
"Scargo, it's okay," he said, turning slightly to hand the bottle to his brother. "It really is water. Here, have some."
Scargo still looked suspicious and frightened, but reluctantly took the bottle in hand anyway; he knew that Dende would never give it to him if there were any harm involved. At first, he took a tentative sip, then larger gulps until he finished a full half of the bottle and handed it back to Dende.
"It surprises me that you have so little trust in me, children," Scree said as Dende downed the other half of the bottle. "I've yet to lie to you. Even Doctor Gneiss has yet to do such a thing."
That had some truth to it, Dende had to admit. He could not recall Scree having uttered an untrue word. As for Doctor Gneiss . . . Well, the same actually did go for her, but that was only because she was the type that didn't care that she frightened people. It certainly wasn't out of any moral concerns. If she had any moral concerns, she would not be conducting scientific experiments upon children.
Dende was about to respond to this statement, but another voice cut in before he could speak.
"Are you finished yet having a conversation with the subjects?" came the cool tone of Doctor Gneiss. Her deceptively harmless looking frame casually strode into the room, coming up behind her assistant. "These are only experiments, you know. They're not something to get attached to. Just get the smaller one out of there; I'm going to want to do a comparison sample."
"As you wish, Doctor." Scree's hand reached in as Doctor Gneiss temporarily shut down the barrier.
"No, wait!" Dende cried, trying harder to impose himself in the way. "You can't –"
Abruptly, Dende felt himself being shoved backward, into the wall behind him as Scargo was yanked away. He hit the wall with a light thud that only knocked some of his breath from him, but not all. Gritting his teeth, he put a hand to his shoulder, the one previously injured and that had borne the brunt of the push. Doctor Gneiss stood in front of him, her arm still extended, and irritation sparking in her flat blue eyes.
The barrier was back in place before he could react any further. Dende could only watch helplessly as Scargo was dragged across the room, trying unsuccessfully to kick at Scree's legs; all he was able to do was lose his balance.
"No! Let go of me! Let me go!" Scargo shouted over and over as accompaniment to his struggles. "Let me go!"
Doctor Gneiss held her hands over her ears. "By the Empire, this kid is loud! Ready the sedative as soon as we're inside; something has to shut him up."
A lump of fear dropped into Dende's stomach; his brother was going to endure things in the same manner that he had. It was the most unpleasant thought possible, and it just kept getting worse and worse after the door whooshed shut behind them.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Unseen even by those flying about in a search, many dark figures scoured their way across the planet. Not that those searchers were never near to them, but they managed to duck out of sight should any of them come too close. Their orders were to maintain stealth; some of the species were capable warriors, and the dark figures did not officially qualify as such. It would be foolhardy to launch a full scale, blatant attack. This was not their way, and certainly not their commander's way.
And so these figures kept to the few shadows that they could find in this world caught in the grip of a never-ending day. They huddled beneath cliffs, and some of them in copses of trees. Once, they had tried hiding in caves, but had been discovered by some of the searchers. Fortunately for those hidden, they were concealed well enough for them to kill the searchers before they realized that anything had happened. While this was effective, it was also quite messy and conspicuous, and thus none hid in caves any longer.
They did not have any true specific destination in mind, but their orders were to first investigate the villages. Their commander was interested in a particular set of artifacts, though for what reason was not known. The one who had dared to ask was currently being swept off the floor of the ship. There were no more questions after that.
That did not mean that there was no speculation about the reasons. After all, they were not robots, programmed to blindly follow orders. But none of these speculations were ever aired, for many feared that the commander would somehow find out about their words and thus punish them. It was not a risk that they were willing to take.
Villages seemed few and far between on this world, generating a sort of frustration in many of the dark figures. How could they complete their mission if they could not find any settlements to search? The commander would be most displeased at their failure. All they could do was keep searching, and hope to come upon their goal. For all they knew, their lives depended upon it.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Time went by even slower now that he was alone. The seconds and minutes were measured in the worries and images of what his brother was enduring at the hands of Doctor Gneiss. And they played through his mind almost as still pictures, barely moving at all and needed close scrutiny to even discern that much. They were terrible to look at, but he could not shut them out; they were in his mind, not the outside world and were thus immune to his eyes. The only respite that he had was that there was no accompanying sound to these images. Or was that such a good thing after all?
Dende wrung his hands nervously, so hard that he was straining his wrists, and he chewed on his bottom lip. Both were nervous habits he thought that he had long ago quelled. And perhaps he had, and this was only a relapse because of the desperate air of the situation. But did not much concern him. What did concern him was what was happening to Scargo in there. It had to have been a long time, longer than Dende himself had spent in there, though admittedly he did not know how long that had been.
Out. They had to get out. Though he himself had escaped harm, Dende was not about to bet on this for any long period of time. If Scargo had indeed been in there for longer than he had been, then he might have undergone something extra and far, far worse. As soon as he was returned to their confinement, he had to have a way for them to get out of here.
For the first time in a while, he found himself alone in this room and in good enough health to do something. As soon as he figured out what that something was, then he would be all set. If he could just think of some way to get through that barrier . . .
He had to test it. If he could just set his mind to blocking away as much pain as possible, then perhaps he would be able to make it through. Unsteadily, for there was still that hole within his leg, Dende rose to his feet, staring straight ahead of him. All he could see was the dull grey of the room and the tables still stocked with various scientific implements. The barrier was there though, invisible, mocking. Dende took a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain . . .
No. He let out his breath and shook his head. Bracing for it was not going to help him; anticipating pain only made it worse in the long run.
With this in mind, he closed his eyes, and envisioned his village, the place that only recently he had found so utterly boring. Now it was a soothing refuge to his presence in this awful place. He could see the pristine white houses, looking like snail shells half sunk into the ground. And outside of them were various villagers wiping them with rags so that they stayed in their pristine state. A few others tended gardens of Ajisa plants, and the children sat around at various outdoor tables, playing lively games of poker.
The image firmly imprinted upon his thoughts, releasing his tension, Dende took a few slow steps forward to the barrier.
"Augh!" He bit back the cry as much as he could, but was unable to prevent it from escaping his lips. For a brief second, he tried to hang on – his eyes had flown open and he could see that he'd made it further than any time previous. Just a little further and he would have done it . . .
But he couldn't. His body jerked backward instinctively, removing him from the source of the agony, and he fell flat on his back, panting. Too much. It had been too much even then, when he had gotten so close.
A whoosh drew his attention, and he sat up abruptly, trying to appear unshaken. He would rather not have anyone know that he'd yet again tried to break through the barrier.
A lump caught in his throat at the sight that greeted him, and this greeting was not a pleasant one. That it was Scree lessened the grimness of the sight, but not by very much. Scargo hung limp in his chubby arms, eyes closed, even antennae drooping. While Dende supposed that his younger brother looked peaceful, it was more the kind of peace that he was worried about. He hoped that it wasn't the eternal kind.
He was too weary, too frightened to move as the barrier was once again temporarily disabled to place Scargo back inside; the younger Namek's head lolled to the side as he was gently set upon the floor.
Scree must have caught the concern in Dende's expression, for he offered up a few words on the matter. "Have no worries about him, little one. Nothing more was done to him than was done to you. The only difference is that you were quicker to recover from the sedative."
Dende heard these words, but did not lift his head to face the speaker. Instead, he kept his eyes upon his brother, not wholly soothed by the assistant's statement. What did it matter anyway, that Dende had been quicker to recover from the sedative? That meant that it had a greater effect upon Scargo, and who knew how dangerous that might turn out to be?
Furtively, Dende glanced about. Scree had apparently left the room at some point, as he could see no sign of him anywhere, and he had yet to see Doctor Gneiss. There was a break here, long enough perhaps for him to try something.
Determined, Dende rolled up his sleeves and cast one last survey of the room. When he found it to still be clear, he placed his hands over Scargo's chest. He closed his eyes once more, searching within his brother's body for the source of his current state. Dende was not quite sure if he could do anything in this case, as he'd only tried his power upon physical injury. Well, there had been one time that he had tried it upon a quite ill elder, and he'd had no success. His healing powers did not extend to curing diseases. This here was a grey area; there was no wound that he could find, but there was a foreign substance forced into Scargo and was causing him harm. It was worth a shot.
But he had to probe deeper, for he'd not yet found anything amiss. And while he probed deeper, he leaned closer in, his arms bending as he did so, as though that would help him somehow. It was a strange, nonsensical impulse, but he had nothing to lose by following it. On the off chance that it actually did something to help, he was not about to risk anything because of some sense of foolishness.
At last, he did finally feel something untoward, and it was a strangely relieving experience. Strange, because he was actually happy to have found something physically wrong with his own brother. It meant that he might truly be able to do something for him.
And so he bent down yet more, his elbows further pushing out to the side as he called upon his power. A bright light sprung up, discernable to even his tightly shut eyes. But, assuming that this was merely his healing aura and nothing more, Dende paid this no mind.
He was able to mend a vein here, and a blood vessel there, before a voice startled him out of healing mode and he jumped back in surprise. He noticed a brief flash as he did so, but had no time to think on it.
"Just how did you do that?" Doctor Gneiss' curious tone matched the expression on her face. It was, quite frankly, the least scary looking that Dende had ever seen her.
But the situation scared him enough on its own. How much had she seen? Had she caught him using his healing powers? "I . . . I . . . uhm . . ." Dende fumbled for words, searching for some way to explain away his actions without her getting suspicious. All that he could come up with was the lame question, "How did I do what?"
The doctor frowned. "You don't know?" She paused for a moment, her head tilting to the side in curiosity. "Hmm. Well, that will have to bear some future study."
Dende was surprised to see the doctor exit the lab after those words, uttering no more as he thought that she would. No persistent demands of how he had done something that she did not understand. It was at the same time a relief, and a sign of greater trouble. Sounded like he would be slated for some more in depth testing whenever she next returned.
Without a thought of suppressing the action, Dende shivered at the prospect. And he was so frightened at this image that he was startled by the soft voice behind him.
"Dende?"
He jumped a little, but gazed down to see Scargo looking at him with half lidded eyes. There was a bit of confusion in that sleepy expression, but it was mostly overridden with happiness. Dende smiled in return, pleased to see that his efforts had worked to at least some degree, but also that they did not become visible until Doctor Gneiss had left the laboratory.
"Hey, Scargo," Dende returned in a similar tone, soft and gentle. "Are you okay?"
Scargo blinked a few times, as though his lids were to heavy for him to keep lifted. At last, he managed an answer. "Yeah . . ."
And these were the only words that he managed to utter before his eyes closed completely, his chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm with his breathing. Asleep, and soundly so from the looks of it.
While he would have preferred to have been able to talk to his brother, Dende's mood did not darken at the suddenly slumbering form. Scargo had no doubt been through a lot, and was in dire need of a proper rest. Things were better for both of them this way. The rest would improve Scargo's condition, and Dende had the time to think on such matters as escape once more.
A realization struck him abruptly, and he shot straight up in surprise. That light that he had briefly seen when Doctor Gneiss' voice had startled him . . . He had thought that he'd merely caught sight of his healing aura winking out, which had happened a few times before in his life, but he realized that this just couldn't be true. His healing aura was yellow, and the light that he had seen had been red. The colour of the barrier.
How could he have touched the barrier – he had to have done so, otherwise it would not have flared up – and not felt any pain from it? One of his elbows must have caught the edge of it as he'd leaned closer in to Scargo, and he hadn't felt a thing.
Slowly, an explanation began to form in his head, giving him a thrill of hope that he'd not had since he and Scargo had been captured. Perhaps there was a way, after all. He had only to test this theory . . .
A weak, tentative smile tugged at Dende's lips as he rolled up his sleeves once more. Here went nothing.