Undiscovered Territory
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Messy Break
Instinctively, Scargo ducked under the blast, covering his head as he pressed himself against the ground. Above him, there was a harsh shattering sound, and bits of glass rained down upon him, leaving tiny rips in his clothes and scratches on his arms.
He so badly wanted to be paralyzed with fear, but he knew that he couldn't afford that. Dende might be counting on him to get out of here and warn everyone at the village. All he needed was a way out. If he could only just . . .
The window.
Scargo didn't waste another second thinking upon it; he rushed to his feet, and before the alien had a chance to react, he dove through the hole in the now-shattered glass. His first instinct was to start flying, but memory triggered and he landed instead. He and Dende had tried flying away when they had first met up with the aliens, and they had ended up being captured. But what . . .
There. This spaceship stood upon many metallic legs, almost like some giant bug, so there was some space underneath it. Scargo scurried beneath the ship, very aware that the alien would no doubt quickly follow him. And there he stayed, tucked away in the shadows, shifting his position so that he could face the way that he had come from. He stared hard in that direction, just waiting to see the alien's boots touch down and their owner crawl under the ship after him. But nothing came.
Could the alien have flown off? It seemed almost too good to be true, but he guessed that it was a possibility. Perhaps now it would be safe to try and head for the village, even if he had no idea where it was in relation to this place. Yet a small swelling of fear and guilt rolled around in his stomach, almost making him sick. He couldn't leave. What if Dende were almost out of there? Scargo didn't want to leave his brother behind. And it hadn't been very long, so who knew if the alien might catch him just as soon as he started flying?
These were scary questions, and ones that Scargo hated asking himself, but they came naturally. He couldn't just go yet. It would be wrong. Just for a little while, at least, he had to wait. And he also had to hope that no one else found him under here while he did.
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It was a natural, instinctive reaction even if it was quite ridiculous at the same time. Dende flinched, and tried to crawl back into his hiding spot, but a slender and surprisingly strong yellow hand latched onto his forearm and pulled him forward. Of all of the surely many people that could have captured him in here, it had to be the worst possible one.
"Nice to see you again, child," Doctor Gneiss purred dangerously. There was an underlying tone of anger to her chillingly smooth voice. "You can imagine that it's very upsetting for me when my test subjects try to run out on me. And most inconsiderate on your part."
Privately, Dende figured that the doctor was not one to criticize someone for being inconsiderate. Her very being defined the word, and a great many worse words beyond it. Of course, he would never say such a thing aloud, not even to an enemy; it was not in his nature to do such things. Retorts didn't matter anyway. Right now, he had to find some way to get away from her.
"Where's your little friend? I noticed that he's run out on me, too."
Dende struggled in Doctor Gneiss' grasp, but could not slip free of her hold, even when he used his other hand to try and pry off her fingers. Despite the failures, he did not cease his efforts; in no way did he want to risk being taken into that laboratory again. "We got separated. I don't know where he is."
Doctor Gneiss frowned, a more terrifying facial expression Dende had never seen. "I do hope that you're not lying to me, child. I would be most unhappy."
As if making her happy was a goal of his. If he didn't get away, she was going to do terrible things to him whether he told her anything or not. Why give her what she wanted, even though he had been telling the truth? "I'm not lying. I really don't know."
All of his previous efforts failing, Dende could think of only one more option to free himself from this woman's grip. He swallowed hard at the very idea of this distasteful task, but he could afford no more hesitation, and thus no more did he give.
And sunk his teeth into the doctor's hand.
"Augh! You vicious little brat!" Doctor Gneiss cried, but her hold did not loosen. In fact, it did the exact opposite and her fingers dug into his arm almost piercing his flesh the way that his teeth had pierced hers. She had been kneeling before, but she abruptly stood up now, taking him with her. Helplessly, he hung in the air.
Disgusted by his own tactic and that it had failed so spectacularly, Dende spit out tiny droplets of blood and a piece of skin that he had gotten into his mouth. He worked his tongue around, trying to banish the truly awful flavour.
"You're lucky that you're such a fascinating subject, child." Wrinkles had formed around the doctor's eyes, making them appear set further back in her head than they actually were. She pulled him a little nearer, so close that he could feel her breath on his face. "Otherwise, I would throw you to the soldiers and let them decide what to do with you. I know I'm frightening, child, but there are people around here who can be a lot scarier than me if they've a mind to."
With that, the doctor spun on her heel, only lowering her arm a bit so that Dende was no longer at eye level with her. Even though none of his efforts had worked to the slightest degree, he kept on trying to wriggle free of her grip. There was only one place that she could possibly be taking him, and that was to place that he least wanted to go.
The laboratory.
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"Have you acquired it? Report." Basalt tapped the side button on his scouter, ready to receive the mission status from one of the other crews that he had sent out in the search for the Dragonballs. If they had encountered as powerful an opposition at another village, then there was a possibility that they'd had to retreat without their prize. None of the other crews had someone of his calibre with them, so they couldn't necessarily handle everything.
"Affirmative, commander," came the words through the hyperwave channel. "And we've received word from two other crews. Both were successful."
A smile crept across Basalt's face at this development. Four down, and if he remembered his rumours correctly, three to go. He could almost taste his desire now, and it had a most pleasant flavour indeed. By far the most delectable one that he'd yet experienced in his entire life.
"Good. Track down the other crews and head back to the ship. You've got three hours to regroup."
Once the affirmation had been spoken, Basalt switched off his scouter's hyperwave channel. Three hours should hopefully be enough time for the each of the remaining crews to find their Dragonballs. All that would be left would be to figure out how to use them. Quite honestly, he was unsure of this, and no rumours had ever even mentioned the subject. The fact that Lord Frieza had failed in it seemed to indicate that there was something special that needed to be done for them to work.
Well. No matter. The locals would know how to use them, and he was just lucky enough to have a pair of them at his disposal back at his ship. If he couldn't figure out the Dragonballs on his own, then he would just borrow one of Doctor Gneiss' test subjects for a while, with the added bonus of annoying her.
Either way, things were definitely looking up.
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"Do you remember where this base might be?"
Whelk considered this carefully, mulling things over in his head. The exact location where he had sensed an odd disturbance he could not pinpoint, but he thought perhaps that he could recall the general area. "Not specifically, Elder, though I do think that I would be able to find it again without too much trouble."
Elder Muuri nodded slowly, head bowed as it had been ever since he had called him and Limpet in to speak privately. Exactly what was going through the elder's mind, Whelk did not know, but he could understand and appreciate the kind of pressure that he was under. It was a difficult thing, even if desired, to be the one that everyone counted on. Truth be told, Whelk was somewhat ashamed of himself for not handling more of this on his own rather than leaving so much of it to Elder Muuri. After all, he was a warrior, trained for these kinds of things.
At last, Elder Muuri raised his head. "Then I think it is best for you to do so. The sooner we can find the children and the Dragonballs, the better off everyone will be."
"Yes, Elder." Whelk bowed, happy to be taking a little responsibility out of his Elder's hands. "I'll head out right away."
Elder Muuri raised a hand to halt him. "Hold, Whelk. You're too intelligent a warrior to go alone into a situation where you don't know the enemy's numbers."
"That's right," Limpet piped up; he'd been surprisingly rather quiet until this point, very uncharacteristic of him. "You're not getting rid of me that easily. You know that I'm coming with you."
Whelk nodded, appreciating the words of wisdom, not surprising from his elder, but very much so from Limpet. Who knew that the latter even had it in him? Whelk had to admit that he was impressed here.
"That's not enough," Elder Muuri's words were calm and reasoned, though Whelk was able to detect the slightest strain in them, so slight that he very nearly convinced himself that he had imagined it. "You're not going out unless it's in a proper triad."
As much sense as that made, Whelk frowned at it. He had a distinctly unpleasant idea of who his elder was suggesting to complete the triad. His eyes slid toward the corner of the room, where Chiton leaned calmly in the light shadows. This simply was not going to work out.
And he made his displeasure known. "It surely does not have to be him, Elder," he said, not keeping his voice as well-controlled as Elder Muuri's had been; disdain coloured it clearly. "He is not the only other warrior in this village."
Elder Muuri sighed, but gave no quarter on this argument. "That's true. But bear in mind that we also have a prisoner to watch over. Why disturb others when there is already a triad assembled within this room?"
"Elder . . ." Whelk began, but let himself trail off. There really was no argument for that, however much he wanted one to exist. That fact must have been clearly evident on his face, for he was certain that he heard Chiton chuckle at him from the corner. But Whelk could put aside his dislike for a while, since the need was great enough. He simply would not allow Chiton to get to him. Limpet seemed to be better at talking to the wraith anyway, so he could just have him handle the conversation. Less bother for everyone.
"Well, now that we've gotten that settled . . ." Limpet jumped into the conversation once more. His eyes had lit up at some point, showing a certain excitement in the situation. "I suppose that we should be off. Timing is important here, I believe we all agreed." His eyes slid over to Chiton. "Provided that we're all going."
At this, Chiton left his corner and stalked out of the room, casually tossing over his shoulder, "Don't expect me to stand around here and wait for the two of you. It's time to go, is it not?"
Whelk ground his teeth at the insolence, but kept his tongue in check on it. Instead, he headed for the door, where Limpet had already followed, but Elder Muuri's voice halted him.
"Good luck to all of you," he said quietly, face grave. "I'm going to contact a few of the other villages and ask that they send out triads as well. Make sure to keep your ki signatures detectable."
"As you wish, Elder." Once more, Whelk bowed, and this time he completed his exit of the room, heading out into the bright light of the suns. He let them warm his skin for a second as he scanned the skies for the forms of Limpet and Chiton. Once he caught sight of them, he leapt into the sky after them.
It was finally time to do something productive.
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That same small room which he had only seen once before had frightened him even then. Now, however, there was a darker, overall more terrifying quality to it, and he was not foolish enough to believe that it was caused by anything besides the doctor's attitude. Always before, she had been either emotionless or gleeful, and as scary as those emotions were, Dende was finding that her anger was a far worse one indeed.
"Scree, would you get this little monster to hold still?" Doctor Gneiss snapped irritably; the venom in her voice was probably strong enough to kill. Dende had not stopped struggling in her grasp, and he had no intention of doing so now.
Abruptly, he was removed from that grasp and into another one; he could see Scree's bulky orange hands wrapped around his belly. This grip was much stronger than the previous one, and Dende would have stepped up his struggles, but he had been using his full strength against the doctor.
"Now just calm down, little one." Scree's usual soothing words spoken in his usual soothing voice. Only this time, under the circumstances, they did not have the same effect as they once had. Perhaps because there was a hint of something more sombre in them this time around, as though Scree was aware of just exactly what terrible fate was about to be handed down. "This won't harm you very much so long as you allow me to put you to sleep for it."
Of course, Dende was about to allow no such thing, whatever was going to be done to him. But his struggles proved no more fruitful than any he had made before, and he was forced down onto his back, where a set of three thick black straps pinned him to the table.
This was not the same table that he had lain upon earlier. Rather, it was one that had extended from the wall itself at the push of a button. And a glance toward that wall showed a large, bulky white tube where nothing but darkness seemed to reside within.
Dende twitched against the straps, but to no avail; they were simply too secure around him. He glanced to his left, where Doctor Gneiss was wiping a cloth on the hand that he had bitten. Once she finished, she regarded the hand clinically. That emotionless face was back once more.
"Hm," she said at last. "I'll have to remember to study this bite mark impression. But that will be for later." She turned to face her assistant. "What are you waiting for, Scree? Get that kid sedated; I don't want him squirming around there and messing up the results."
Dende didn't even hear a reply before he felt a prick in the side of his arm. Though he tried to struggle away from it, he was not able to move significantly. A drowsiness came over him, and like he had with everything lately, he fought it. This enemy at least, did not require that he move to combat it.
But as he did fight, more of whatever drug he was receiving was injected into his arm. Perhaps he should step down his resistance a bit, as scary as that sounded. He didn't want too much of this substance to invade his body for fear of what that might do to him.
So he slowly relaxed, closing his eyes and trying to even out his breathing. Anything to make them think that he had fallen asleep. And this seemed to work, for he felt the needle removed from his skin.
Even so, his head felt extremely foggy, and he put a little more resistance forth again. Not enough, he hoped, to be visibly detected. Just enough to keep him from falling unconscious. However terrible this was going to be, he would rather be awake for it and know what was going on.
He heard voices above him, but was too far gone to determine anything that they were saying. What he was still able to feel, though, was the table he was on retracting into the large white tube. Though his eyes were closed, he could tell when its darkness washed over him.
And what he felt next would make him regret his choice to stay awake.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Messy Break
Instinctively, Scargo ducked under the blast, covering his head as he pressed himself against the ground. Above him, there was a harsh shattering sound, and bits of glass rained down upon him, leaving tiny rips in his clothes and scratches on his arms.
He so badly wanted to be paralyzed with fear, but he knew that he couldn't afford that. Dende might be counting on him to get out of here and warn everyone at the village. All he needed was a way out. If he could only just . . .
The window.
Scargo didn't waste another second thinking upon it; he rushed to his feet, and before the alien had a chance to react, he dove through the hole in the now-shattered glass. His first instinct was to start flying, but memory triggered and he landed instead. He and Dende had tried flying away when they had first met up with the aliens, and they had ended up being captured. But what . . .
There. This spaceship stood upon many metallic legs, almost like some giant bug, so there was some space underneath it. Scargo scurried beneath the ship, very aware that the alien would no doubt quickly follow him. And there he stayed, tucked away in the shadows, shifting his position so that he could face the way that he had come from. He stared hard in that direction, just waiting to see the alien's boots touch down and their owner crawl under the ship after him. But nothing came.
Could the alien have flown off? It seemed almost too good to be true, but he guessed that it was a possibility. Perhaps now it would be safe to try and head for the village, even if he had no idea where it was in relation to this place. Yet a small swelling of fear and guilt rolled around in his stomach, almost making him sick. He couldn't leave. What if Dende were almost out of there? Scargo didn't want to leave his brother behind. And it hadn't been very long, so who knew if the alien might catch him just as soon as he started flying?
These were scary questions, and ones that Scargo hated asking himself, but they came naturally. He couldn't just go yet. It would be wrong. Just for a little while, at least, he had to wait. And he also had to hope that no one else found him under here while he did.
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It was a natural, instinctive reaction even if it was quite ridiculous at the same time. Dende flinched, and tried to crawl back into his hiding spot, but a slender and surprisingly strong yellow hand latched onto his forearm and pulled him forward. Of all of the surely many people that could have captured him in here, it had to be the worst possible one.
"Nice to see you again, child," Doctor Gneiss purred dangerously. There was an underlying tone of anger to her chillingly smooth voice. "You can imagine that it's very upsetting for me when my test subjects try to run out on me. And most inconsiderate on your part."
Privately, Dende figured that the doctor was not one to criticize someone for being inconsiderate. Her very being defined the word, and a great many worse words beyond it. Of course, he would never say such a thing aloud, not even to an enemy; it was not in his nature to do such things. Retorts didn't matter anyway. Right now, he had to find some way to get away from her.
"Where's your little friend? I noticed that he's run out on me, too."
Dende struggled in Doctor Gneiss' grasp, but could not slip free of her hold, even when he used his other hand to try and pry off her fingers. Despite the failures, he did not cease his efforts; in no way did he want to risk being taken into that laboratory again. "We got separated. I don't know where he is."
Doctor Gneiss frowned, a more terrifying facial expression Dende had never seen. "I do hope that you're not lying to me, child. I would be most unhappy."
As if making her happy was a goal of his. If he didn't get away, she was going to do terrible things to him whether he told her anything or not. Why give her what she wanted, even though he had been telling the truth? "I'm not lying. I really don't know."
All of his previous efforts failing, Dende could think of only one more option to free himself from this woman's grip. He swallowed hard at the very idea of this distasteful task, but he could afford no more hesitation, and thus no more did he give.
And sunk his teeth into the doctor's hand.
"Augh! You vicious little brat!" Doctor Gneiss cried, but her hold did not loosen. In fact, it did the exact opposite and her fingers dug into his arm almost piercing his flesh the way that his teeth had pierced hers. She had been kneeling before, but she abruptly stood up now, taking him with her. Helplessly, he hung in the air.
Disgusted by his own tactic and that it had failed so spectacularly, Dende spit out tiny droplets of blood and a piece of skin that he had gotten into his mouth. He worked his tongue around, trying to banish the truly awful flavour.
"You're lucky that you're such a fascinating subject, child." Wrinkles had formed around the doctor's eyes, making them appear set further back in her head than they actually were. She pulled him a little nearer, so close that he could feel her breath on his face. "Otherwise, I would throw you to the soldiers and let them decide what to do with you. I know I'm frightening, child, but there are people around here who can be a lot scarier than me if they've a mind to."
With that, the doctor spun on her heel, only lowering her arm a bit so that Dende was no longer at eye level with her. Even though none of his efforts had worked to the slightest degree, he kept on trying to wriggle free of her grip. There was only one place that she could possibly be taking him, and that was to place that he least wanted to go.
The laboratory.
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"Have you acquired it? Report." Basalt tapped the side button on his scouter, ready to receive the mission status from one of the other crews that he had sent out in the search for the Dragonballs. If they had encountered as powerful an opposition at another village, then there was a possibility that they'd had to retreat without their prize. None of the other crews had someone of his calibre with them, so they couldn't necessarily handle everything.
"Affirmative, commander," came the words through the hyperwave channel. "And we've received word from two other crews. Both were successful."
A smile crept across Basalt's face at this development. Four down, and if he remembered his rumours correctly, three to go. He could almost taste his desire now, and it had a most pleasant flavour indeed. By far the most delectable one that he'd yet experienced in his entire life.
"Good. Track down the other crews and head back to the ship. You've got three hours to regroup."
Once the affirmation had been spoken, Basalt switched off his scouter's hyperwave channel. Three hours should hopefully be enough time for the each of the remaining crews to find their Dragonballs. All that would be left would be to figure out how to use them. Quite honestly, he was unsure of this, and no rumours had ever even mentioned the subject. The fact that Lord Frieza had failed in it seemed to indicate that there was something special that needed to be done for them to work.
Well. No matter. The locals would know how to use them, and he was just lucky enough to have a pair of them at his disposal back at his ship. If he couldn't figure out the Dragonballs on his own, then he would just borrow one of Doctor Gneiss' test subjects for a while, with the added bonus of annoying her.
Either way, things were definitely looking up.
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"Do you remember where this base might be?"
Whelk considered this carefully, mulling things over in his head. The exact location where he had sensed an odd disturbance he could not pinpoint, but he thought perhaps that he could recall the general area. "Not specifically, Elder, though I do think that I would be able to find it again without too much trouble."
Elder Muuri nodded slowly, head bowed as it had been ever since he had called him and Limpet in to speak privately. Exactly what was going through the elder's mind, Whelk did not know, but he could understand and appreciate the kind of pressure that he was under. It was a difficult thing, even if desired, to be the one that everyone counted on. Truth be told, Whelk was somewhat ashamed of himself for not handling more of this on his own rather than leaving so much of it to Elder Muuri. After all, he was a warrior, trained for these kinds of things.
At last, Elder Muuri raised his head. "Then I think it is best for you to do so. The sooner we can find the children and the Dragonballs, the better off everyone will be."
"Yes, Elder." Whelk bowed, happy to be taking a little responsibility out of his Elder's hands. "I'll head out right away."
Elder Muuri raised a hand to halt him. "Hold, Whelk. You're too intelligent a warrior to go alone into a situation where you don't know the enemy's numbers."
"That's right," Limpet piped up; he'd been surprisingly rather quiet until this point, very uncharacteristic of him. "You're not getting rid of me that easily. You know that I'm coming with you."
Whelk nodded, appreciating the words of wisdom, not surprising from his elder, but very much so from Limpet. Who knew that the latter even had it in him? Whelk had to admit that he was impressed here.
"That's not enough," Elder Muuri's words were calm and reasoned, though Whelk was able to detect the slightest strain in them, so slight that he very nearly convinced himself that he had imagined it. "You're not going out unless it's in a proper triad."
As much sense as that made, Whelk frowned at it. He had a distinctly unpleasant idea of who his elder was suggesting to complete the triad. His eyes slid toward the corner of the room, where Chiton leaned calmly in the light shadows. This simply was not going to work out.
And he made his displeasure known. "It surely does not have to be him, Elder," he said, not keeping his voice as well-controlled as Elder Muuri's had been; disdain coloured it clearly. "He is not the only other warrior in this village."
Elder Muuri sighed, but gave no quarter on this argument. "That's true. But bear in mind that we also have a prisoner to watch over. Why disturb others when there is already a triad assembled within this room?"
"Elder . . ." Whelk began, but let himself trail off. There really was no argument for that, however much he wanted one to exist. That fact must have been clearly evident on his face, for he was certain that he heard Chiton chuckle at him from the corner. But Whelk could put aside his dislike for a while, since the need was great enough. He simply would not allow Chiton to get to him. Limpet seemed to be better at talking to the wraith anyway, so he could just have him handle the conversation. Less bother for everyone.
"Well, now that we've gotten that settled . . ." Limpet jumped into the conversation once more. His eyes had lit up at some point, showing a certain excitement in the situation. "I suppose that we should be off. Timing is important here, I believe we all agreed." His eyes slid over to Chiton. "Provided that we're all going."
At this, Chiton left his corner and stalked out of the room, casually tossing over his shoulder, "Don't expect me to stand around here and wait for the two of you. It's time to go, is it not?"
Whelk ground his teeth at the insolence, but kept his tongue in check on it. Instead, he headed for the door, where Limpet had already followed, but Elder Muuri's voice halted him.
"Good luck to all of you," he said quietly, face grave. "I'm going to contact a few of the other villages and ask that they send out triads as well. Make sure to keep your ki signatures detectable."
"As you wish, Elder." Once more, Whelk bowed, and this time he completed his exit of the room, heading out into the bright light of the suns. He let them warm his skin for a second as he scanned the skies for the forms of Limpet and Chiton. Once he caught sight of them, he leapt into the sky after them.
It was finally time to do something productive.
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That same small room which he had only seen once before had frightened him even then. Now, however, there was a darker, overall more terrifying quality to it, and he was not foolish enough to believe that it was caused by anything besides the doctor's attitude. Always before, she had been either emotionless or gleeful, and as scary as those emotions were, Dende was finding that her anger was a far worse one indeed.
"Scree, would you get this little monster to hold still?" Doctor Gneiss snapped irritably; the venom in her voice was probably strong enough to kill. Dende had not stopped struggling in her grasp, and he had no intention of doing so now.
Abruptly, he was removed from that grasp and into another one; he could see Scree's bulky orange hands wrapped around his belly. This grip was much stronger than the previous one, and Dende would have stepped up his struggles, but he had been using his full strength against the doctor.
"Now just calm down, little one." Scree's usual soothing words spoken in his usual soothing voice. Only this time, under the circumstances, they did not have the same effect as they once had. Perhaps because there was a hint of something more sombre in them this time around, as though Scree was aware of just exactly what terrible fate was about to be handed down. "This won't harm you very much so long as you allow me to put you to sleep for it."
Of course, Dende was about to allow no such thing, whatever was going to be done to him. But his struggles proved no more fruitful than any he had made before, and he was forced down onto his back, where a set of three thick black straps pinned him to the table.
This was not the same table that he had lain upon earlier. Rather, it was one that had extended from the wall itself at the push of a button. And a glance toward that wall showed a large, bulky white tube where nothing but darkness seemed to reside within.
Dende twitched against the straps, but to no avail; they were simply too secure around him. He glanced to his left, where Doctor Gneiss was wiping a cloth on the hand that he had bitten. Once she finished, she regarded the hand clinically. That emotionless face was back once more.
"Hm," she said at last. "I'll have to remember to study this bite mark impression. But that will be for later." She turned to face her assistant. "What are you waiting for, Scree? Get that kid sedated; I don't want him squirming around there and messing up the results."
Dende didn't even hear a reply before he felt a prick in the side of his arm. Though he tried to struggle away from it, he was not able to move significantly. A drowsiness came over him, and like he had with everything lately, he fought it. This enemy at least, did not require that he move to combat it.
But as he did fight, more of whatever drug he was receiving was injected into his arm. Perhaps he should step down his resistance a bit, as scary as that sounded. He didn't want too much of this substance to invade his body for fear of what that might do to him.
So he slowly relaxed, closing his eyes and trying to even out his breathing. Anything to make them think that he had fallen asleep. And this seemed to work, for he felt the needle removed from his skin.
Even so, his head felt extremely foggy, and he put a little more resistance forth again. Not enough, he hoped, to be visibly detected. Just enough to keep him from falling unconscious. However terrible this was going to be, he would rather be awake for it and know what was going on.
He heard voices above him, but was too far gone to determine anything that they were saying. What he was still able to feel, though, was the table he was on retracting into the large white tube. Though his eyes were closed, he could tell when its darkness washed over him.
And what he felt next would make him regret his choice to stay awake.