Visions
Chapter 77: Inertia
For a time Piccolo watched, heart tensed just as much as his body, while his eyes swept over the desert landscape in tandem with his probing ki. To their credit, the humans had been patient enough, standing or sitting around, waiting.
Just a little longer, until… wait...
Something fell away to Piccolo's left. 'Did anyone else feel that?' he said aloud, turning his head.
'Think so,' Chi-Chi answered. She squinted at a nearby mesa. 'Odd…'
'He hid his power exceptionally well,' Piccolo continued. 'I didn't even notice him until he was gone.'
Launch rose to her feet. 'Cool. A good segway into who he is- or was.' She strode over to Piccolo. 'You ready to explain what the hell is going on?'
Piccolo stared at her, and took a deep, stress-relieving breath. He told them the basics as quickly as possible: that the mystery person was a time traveler, and what he said awaited them in the future. Almost everything- except for a few details he wasn't quite sure yet to reveal. I need to visit Kami...
'That's the long and short of it,' he finished, glaring due to his own unease at being thrust into this role. 'By coming here, he apparently saved a lot of us from death today- but not from the other events he mentioned… vaguely.'
'He's from the future?' Yamcha repeated, palming the word in his mouth. 'That's… that's kinda crazy to believe.'
'He was very transparent about that fact.' Piccolo did a quick glance over his shoulder in approximately the direction Traveler had departed to. 'Which is strange. Very strange.'
For a stretch of time, Rayne stared at Piccolo. 'And you don't believe him,' she said, pulling the Namekian's attention. 'Right?'
'I believe he's from the future,' Piccolo stated. 'That's the only thing he said we can take as truth. I can't be the only one who felt it… his ki felt out-of-place. Given what we know, that can't be circumstantial.'
'There could be a number of explanations for that,' Suno spoke up. 'Could be because his ki was so massive that it felt that way to us. Could be… his soul is off.' She again eyed a distant mesa. 'We can't say conclusively one way or the other, especially now that he's gone.'
'And it's not like we have any specific details about what's going to happen in the future to prove he knows what's going to happen- to prove that he's from the future conclusively,' Retu added.
Yamcha shifted. 'But don't we have more evidence suggesting he's from the future than not? Realistically- could we have beaten the Saiyans by ourselves?'
He didn't intend for a long, grating silence to stretch on after he had asked his question, or that everyone else's attention would have been drawn to the three conspicuously silent people among them.
'Sorry,' Yamcha said briskly, trying to redirect the conversation back to himself. 'I should have-'
'No,' Krillin replied, lifting his gaze from the ground. His voice seemed to drag Tien and Chi-Chi a little bit out of their heads and into the wider conversation. 'It's alright. To answer your question- no, I don't think so.'
Tien glanced at Launch. 'Do you want to say it, or should I?'
She bit her lip. 'I was nowhere close to Vegeta and Nappa once they transformed,' she said, eyes bent. 'If this time traveler wasn't actually that, and was making a prediction… it was a likely one.'
'And she's the strongest of all of us,' Tien further clarified, 'or, the strongest from what I gathered.'
'What's the highest level you reached with the Kaioken?' Krillin asked.
'15,' Launch answered. 'Nothing more than a few seconds of that at a time, though.'
'Huh,' Krillin grunted, glancing around. 'Judging by everyone's faces… congratulations.'
'It's meaningless how strong I am compared to everyone else if I still come up short,' Launch said, brushing off his words. She eyed Tien. 'Meaningless if… you know.'
'I know,' Tien said softly.
The conversation lapsed into introspective silence again. Piccolo chose his next words very carefully.
'I believe I spoke with a time traveler,' he said. 'And I understand that would make him a very valuable source of information… so I want to be very careful in what we're about to do.'
In a rare show of emphasis, Piccolo jabbed a finger to his chest. 'He picked me out and spoke to me- alone. He battled the Saiyans for us- and then prevented us from talking to them. And he was extremely cryptic about what fate awaits us all in the future. So; I'll ask one question. Do you trust me?'
They were more muted than he would have liked. Still, Krillin got around to looking at him. 'I think we trust you more than a random stranger,' he spoke frankly. The others gave small, agreeing nods.
'Then I'll trust you,' Piccolo replied in turn, 'and say this: I think there's a good chance most of what he said, if not everything, was a lie.'
'What?' Yamcha exclaimed. 'Everything? After what happened today and what we've discussed- you honestly think that?'
'Like I said before, I think he's a time traveler,' Piccolo repeated, 'but think about it. He described time travel as a way of dipping into another timeline- into another universe, if I understood him correctly. Whatever he did today would have no impact on his own universe. So why would he come here, fight a battle for us, and then leave?'
'You said that he knew us,' Retu spoke up. 'Or, at the very least, knew who we are. It could be that he cared about us.'
'He didn't,' Piccolo said bluntly. 'Actually, he blamed you all for what happened to his timeline.'
Chi-Chi frowned. 'Blamed us?' she stressed. 'How do you blame someone for events they couldn't have known were going to happen?'
At that comment, one of Piccolo's antennas' twitched, but he said nothing. Later.
'He might be a jaded survivor,' Suno said. 'Associates us with the harm that happened to his world, regardless of what we may have tried to do to stop it.'
'We don't know either way,' Piccolo spoke up, 'which highlights the bad position he put us in. We know nothing concrete about him or what's going to occur in the future beyond two unspecified events happening a couple of years from now. I bet even our counterparts in his timeline know more than us at this point.'
Launch narrowed her eyes. 'What do you mean by that?'
'The deal Bulma made.'
'I'm sorry?' From the back of their half-circle, Bulma emerged, pushing the others out of her way. 'I zoned out for a little bit there- did someone just say my name?'
Piccolo glared at her. 'Were you not listening?'
'Now? Or before?'
'Both.'
'I heard the part about the deal I made,' she said, somewhat muted. 'I've… been thinking about that. Why I'd make it in the first place.'
'That's exactly my point,' Piccolo said, gesturing to her. 'In our visitor's timeline, we all presumably knew what sort of deal Bulma made with Vegeta. And, now…'
'We know nothing,' Bulma finished for him, her mouth curdling. 'I hadn't thought of that.'
'And who would we have talked to if that deal would have happened?'
Bulma's frown deepened. 'The Saiyans.'
'Exactly,' Piccolo grunted. 'And he made sure we could never talk to the Saiyans today.'
'What's your point?' Tien asked pointedly. 'Doubting this person's testimony for the sake of doubting isn't going to help us. He's given us some direction that we wouldn't have otherwise. And it's not like we can go into the future and verify everything he said.'
'No,' Piccolo acknowledged, 'but there is one other fact about our time traveler that I think is true; he said there was a reason for everything he did and said. If we trust him, we would assume that reason is his motivation to help us… but I think it's much more likely that he's only motivated to help himself.'
'As the only person who spoke to him,' Rayne said slowly, 'that's a sizable accusation, Piccolo. And probably unprovable, all things considered.'
'Think about it; there are some serious question marks surrounding what he told us. For example- why did he speak so cryptically?' he argued, animated. 'If he really was from the future, and he had an interest in helping us, why didn't he tell us exactly what happened in his timeline?'
'Would it help us to know what's coming?' Krillin asked earnestly. He looked at the others. 'Seriously- if we, as a group, dissolved after the events of today, isn't it possible that it was caused by something we learned?'
'He mentioned that happened primarily because some of us died,' Retu said. 'Could also be a combination of the two.'
'He also said that he didn't know exactly what had happened,' Chi-Chi added. 'There are a lot of reasons that he himself offered to explain why he was so vague.'
'I understand that,' Piccolo said, voice sharp, 'but honestly- would an experienced time traveler know so little that he couldn't give us information in a way that wouldn't hurt us?'
'What makes him experienced?' Suno asked.
'This wasn't his first trip back in time,' he replied, voice low. 'I'm sure of it.'
'You're assuming that,' Tien said sternly, 'based on?...'
The Namekian crouched down to the ground, and using his finger, marked two parallel lines in the sand. 'This is how he explained time travel to me,' he narrated, drawing another line that intersected the two existing ones. 'This is the common event to both our timelines- the day when the Saiyans came to Earth. Our time traveler came back to today and stopped the Saiyans. That didn't occur in his timeline.'
Krillin rapped his fingers against his arms. 'Alright? What's your point?'
Piccolo pointed to the intersecting line. 'He knew this was how time travel worked before he came today. Said he had "seen" it first-hand, which implies that he's gone back in time before and seen that making a change in the past changes nothing in his present.'
Launch stared at him. 'That's it? He could have known from… I don't know, science, that would be how time travel worked before making the trip.'
'Then why did he say that junk about "telling us exactly what he needed to know" to not doom this timeline to a worse fate than his?' Piccolo countered. 'He made it sound like he was being extremely measured about what he was saying to us- but how would he know how measured he has to be if he doesn't have a good idea of what happened in his timeline?'
Krillin squinted. 'You lost me.'
'He said he didn't know exactly how everything happened in his timeline.' Piccolo said, standing. 'He also claimed to be acting in our best interest, and said that he was telling us exactly what we needed to know in order to help us.'
Piccolo paused, and glanced between their blank looks. 'Don't you understand? These all can't be true! Or, at the very least, the probability of that is extremely low!'
'I don't think all that is incompatible with what he told us,' Chiaotzu said, a calm tone to his voice. 'He's trying to help us the best he can with what he knows. Besides, if he knows more than he's letting on, and perhaps that's because he's gone back in time multiple times- what's the issue? He's better equipped to help us?'
'If he's traveled back in time multiple times,' Piccolo said in a steady voice, 'it's likely that he's not trying to be a good samaritan by saving every single universe- it's more likely that he's doing it for himself, which casts into doubt everything he's done and told us.' Piccolo shook his head. 'I don't like being manipulated,' he growled, 'and I get the feeling that's what happening here.'
'Manipulated to do what?' Bulma probed, leaning forward.
'Manipulated to…' Piccolo's speech fell away, and for the first time in their conversation moved his gaze away from them.
'I don't know,' he answered. 'Nothing good.'
'Well.' Launch said loudly, stretching her arms above her head. 'That was fun. A waste of time, but fun.' She threw a derisive glance at Piccolo. 'Thanks for that.'
Piccolo arched his brow ridges at her. 'You don't believe me?' He took a broader look, and noted skepticism similar to hers. 'You all don't believe me?'
'To be honest, Piccolo,' Krillin said tentatively, 'your theory is a little… half-baked.'
'What?'
'It's all conjecture,' Krillin explained. 'We can't prove or disprove any of it. The best we can do is infer what he intends from his character- and the fact that he saved my life might not mean anything to you, but it does mean something to me.'
'Ditto for me,' Tien said.
'And me,' Chi-Chi chimed in.
'I talked to him!' Piccolo stressed. 'I felt his lies! There were too many holes in his story!'
Krillin tensed his face. 'We're probably never going to see the guy again. Is he worth-'
'How do you know that? If time travel-'
'Piccolo!'
Krillin's voice whipped through the air, echoing off the nearby cliffs. 'By trusting him, we're also trusting you,' he said in a calmer tone. 'We don't have a compelling reason to doubt him, just as we don't have a compelling reason to doubt you.'
Piccolo sized up the human, then sneered. 'You're gullible.'
'And perhaps you're too paranoid.'
'And both of you are wasting time,' Launch butted into their conversation, stepping away from everyone. 'Based on today, I know exactly what I need to do. A couple of years from now, the Earth is gonna get hit by something a whole lot worse than what we got today. We need to prepare for that, train- more than we've been doing in the past couple years.' She glared at Piccolo. 'That guy gave us something to work on- so let's get to work.'
Tien and Chiaotzu stepped out of the group. 'Hate to say it, but I think she's right here,' Tien said, stopping at a satisfied-looking Launch. 'We don't have a timetable for when we're going to be hit next, so we have to make every second count towards getting stronger.' He glanced to his right and through the desert. 'We can't let a day like today happen again. That guy saved us, and I doubt we'll get another time traveler swooping in to help anytime soon.'
A low growl escaped from Piccolo's throat. 'Again, how would you know that?'
'How would you know otherwise?' Rayne said, stepping over to Krillin and crossing her arms. 'Tien's right. We need to train, and the faster we get on that, the better.'
Bulma swung her head between the two separating groups. Her mind inferred what their distance from the others meant. 'You guys are leaving? I thought you were going to come back to Capsule Corp. and help me test my healing tech?'
'Test?' Rayne repeated.
'Use,' Bulma corrected herself. 'It works…' she glanced away. 'Yes…'
The corners of Krillin's mouth dipped down. 'I think we'll pass,' he said.
'Follow us to Korin's and help us shake him down for more beans,' Launch suggested, glancing to Krillin. Her eyes jumped between Tien and Chiaotzu. 'We're going to need them for training, after all.'
He nodded. 'Right.'
'That's it?' Yamcha eyed them.
'We'll keep in touch,' Launch said. 'But, otherwise, I don't see any more reason to stick around here.'
'Agreed,' Rayne echoed. 'Chi-Chi, Yamcha- once we're done with Korin, we'll swing by and grab Maron.'
Yamcha's mouth dipped down. He nodded. 'Okay.'
Frowning, Bulma turned to Piccolo. 'Well?'
The Namekian's gaze hit the sand. 'I've said my peace,' he said, muted. 'Whether you accept it out of my control.'
For a long second Launch stared at Piccolo, waiting for something further. But nothing came, and with a gentle flare of her aura, she lifted in the air alongside Tien and Chiaotzu. Krillin and Rayne joined them a second later.
'Bye, all,' she said, raising a hand. They shot off into the sky, rolling away.
0o0o0
'Well, that was something,' Suno spoke up from the group's edge. 'Can we go now and get healed?'
'That eager for her experimental tech?' Yamcha teased.
'It's not really experimental,' Retu clarified, drawing up alongside Suno. 'More like… somewhat tested.'
Suno frowned at him. 'On people, right?'
'Do you consider dinosaurs people?' Bez said.
'Don't badmouth the hand that feeds you,' Bulma chided them, pulling a capsule from her pocket. She pressed her thumb down and threw it away, and with a pop of smoke, her freight plane from earlier appeared on the sands. A few scratches and dents, here and there- but one piece still.
'Wasn't this thing wedged between two rock walls?' Suno asked dryly.
Bulma strode over to the craft and patted it proudly, producing a metallic slapping sound. 'We Briefs build things to last- not like those North City Boxers.'
'Who?' Suno asked, stopping halfway up the ramp.
'Not important.' Bulma corralled her the rest of the way into the ship.
One-by-one, Suno, Retu, Bez, Yajirobe, and Yamcha filed inside, eager to sit and rest their legs. Bulma was surprised to see, however, that Chi-Chi was standing farther back, eyes glued to the sky. Huh?...
'You're going to West City?' Piccolo's voice grated from behind her.
'Woah!' Bulma jumped, spinning around. The Namekian was standing on the sands just beyond the ramp's edge. 'Don't do that, you freak!'
If Piccolo was hurt by her words, he didn't show it. 'Are you going to West City or not?'
'Of course I- we are!' Bulma scowled at him. 'Were you not listening before?'
'To heal everyone?' Piccolo lifted his right arm and stretched it out horizontally. 'I'm injured. I request your healing.'
Bulma opened and closed her mouth. 'I… what?'
'Can I come?'
'Uhh… yeah… sure?'
Piccolo stepped onto the ship. Bulma heard a few confused "huhs?" as she turned and started walking away from the ship. Weird.
'Chi-Chi- you okay?'
Her gaze didn't budge from the sky. 'Bulma…' Chi-Chi stepped back, and directed her attention to a spot in the sky. 'See that?'
Bulma tilted her head forward. 'A… blue ball?'
'What?' Chi-Chi frowned her up and down. 'No. I think that's… oh, it is!'
She marched farther out, squinting into the sky, and cupped her hands to her mouth. 'Gohan!' Chi-Chi shouted. 'Gohan, come down here!'
Half a dozen heads peaked out of the plane's back as a purple streak dropped from the sky and crashed onto the sands. Gohan, dressed in his pajamas, clambered off of Icarus and jumped into Chi-Chi's arms. 'Mommy!'
Bulma took a step back, and scratching her head, watched Yamcha walk past her and crouch down next to them.
'That storm was so cool!' Gohan effused, face laden with excitement. 'It was like the entire world was shaking!'
Chi-Chi and Yamcha shared a tense glance, but eventually she sighed, and drew Gohan deeper into her arms. 'Yeah… it was,' she said flatly.
'Did you see the man rushing through it?'
'The… golden one?' Chi-Chi asked, pinching her face.
'No! The one with the crazy black hair!' Gohan squirmed with awe in her arms. 'He was cool!'
'Me?' Yamcha asked, scratching his head.
'No!' Gohan frowned at his mom. 'You must have seen him… his clothes were cool…'
Chi-Chi closed her eyes and hugged Gohan tighter. 'I'm sure I did.'
'Gohan…' Yamcha said carefully, '...how long have you been here?'
'Ask him on the ship,' Bulma interrupted them. She glanced suspiciously around the desert. 'I want to get the heck out of here.'
0o0o0
'Hey, Piccolo?'
Frowning, the Namekian shifted and turned to his right. Half of Bulma's machines turned out to be nonfunctional, sputtering chunks of sparks and electricity, and those that did work were too small to fit his body. They worked as open-top tanks of churning blue liquid, continually pumped with regenerative compounds and proteins critical for repairing injury and bodily damage. While the others could comfortably submerge their bodies into these tubes and replenish themselves in a nearby room, Piccolo was stuck to a reclining chair with a metal tube wrapped around his right arm. He had a prototype of a prototype- this sleeved metal vice released the same compounds that the full-body machines did, but administered them into the bloodstream, forcing the body to repair itself through natural pathways.
Beyond the itching pain around the device's insert site into his arm, it was extremely annoying to be chained to one spot to heal. He couldn't even meditate because of the thrumming around his right arm. All he had was his thoughts- and, dear Kami, did he hate those at the moment.
Never in his life did Piccolo think he'd welcome a conversation. Frankly, he felt ashamed when he felt some joy when the door to his right- the door that led to the open tanks- swung open, and Yamcha, Chi-Chi, and Gohan swung into the sterile white room.
'What?' Piccolo replied with a typical annoyed tone.
'We're going,' Yamcha indicated himself, Chi-Chi, and Gohan, 'and we had a question to ask before we did.'
'Yeah?' Piccolo prompted 'What is it?'
'When… when I died,' Chi-Chi forced out, 'in the other timeline… was I not revived?'
Piccolo's eyes tightened. 'What?'
'The dragonballs- were they not used to revive me? Or Krillin and Tien, for that matter? You didn't say anything about us coming back…'
For all of Piccolo's crusading for the truth today, he proved laughably unworthy for the cause when given the chance. He remembered exactly what he had been told.
'The dragonballs weren't usable in his timeline,' Piccolo said. 'They never worked again after Kami fell into his coma.'
'Oh.' Chi-Chi's face fell, and subtly, Piccolo noticed one of Yamcha's arms rope up and lay against her back. 'I see. Well, thank you for that.'
The Namekian frowned. That was all Piccolo could manage, stuck between shock at his own capacity for lying and the ease with which he had been believed. Unlike him, Krillin hadn't lied earlier; the humans actually trusted him.
He watched Chi-Chi and Yamcha stroll out of the hall to his left, towing Gohan behind them. And what do I do with that trust? I trample on it.
With a grimace, Piccolo wrenched the machine off his right arm, ripping it into several silvery metal ribbons. He stood and gathered his cowl and cap from the bench beside him.
'Where the hell is Bulma…'
0o0o0
They landed at Fire Mountain without incident- Chi-Chi, to her son's protests, had shooed away Icarus a little before they reached the castle- and Gohan immediately fell to the ground, hands searching for something in the grass.
'Mr. Yamcha?'
'Hmm?'
'Boo!'
Yamcha blinked as Gohan lifted a worn rock and placed it in Yamcha's hand. 'For you!'
'Ah…' Yamcha glanced down at his hand, and gave a half-smile. 'That… that means a lot. Thank you. Really.'
Gohan gave a bright, radiant smile, and then dashed between his legs for the front door to the castle. He quickly opened and closed it behind him.
Yamcha was still bathing in the afterglow of the kid's smile when Chi-Chi sidled up to his left side. Close. Not super close, but close.
'He likes you,' she commented, hands on her hip, smirking.
Slowly, Yamcha stood, taking in the full sun of the day atop the mountain. He slid the rock into his pocket. 'You know,' he said loosely, 'I'm starting to think there's someone else up here that likes me, too.'
'My father?'
Smiling just as strong as Chi-Chi, Yamcha turned to her. Her face, lit from the side by the day's falling light, seemed to shimmer in the air. 'He's not beautiful enough for my tastes.'
Chi-Chi's smile broadened. She was having too much fun. 'Who is, then?'
With incredible care, Yamcha moved closer to her, not once breaking off eye-contact. 'I like you,' he said, taking Chi-Chi's hands and interlocking his fingers with hers. 'And I'm happy with you- and I think the same is true for you. Here…' his eyes moved around the courtyard. 'I've found something here. Something meaningful.' He glanced back to her. 'I've found you, Chi-Chi. In all seriousness... you might be the best thing that's ever happened to me.'
Her smile wobbled. 'Yamcha… we haven't even kissed,' she chuckled nervously. 'How can you say something like that?'
'Because I know,' he tapped his chest, 'in here. My heart is beating like crazy right now with someone I've known and who's known me for years and years and years! If that's not love, then what is?'
'That's what you think this is? Love?'
'It took some time for me to realize it, but yes. I love everything about you, Chi-Chi,' Yamcha said, gazing into her eyes. 'I love your giant of a father and your gem of a son. I love this castle and the idyllic little village it looks over. I love who you are and the small scar on your forehead.'
Chi-Chi blinked, and decoupled a hand to prod her forehead. 'This?...' she fingered the spot where Raditz had once headbutted long ago. 'I have a scar?...'
'And I love it,' Yamcha said, drawing back her hand. 'I love every part of you… and I feel loved when I'm with you,' he added. 'I feel… present, like I'm not liable to drift away at any given moment. You're like a tether, Chi. You keep me grounded.'
'I'm flattered,' Chi-Chi said earnestly, smiling weakly. 'I… didn't know.' She sighed, and let her hands drop out of his. 'But this seems… I don't know, it seems off.' She wrapped her arms around her, fingers digging into her ribs. 'I liked this better when we were shooting looks at each other and not blurting out romantic drawl…'
'Chi-Chi-'
'I'm just not sure,' she said, raising her gaze back to him. 'I'm not sure what that will do to Gohan, and what that will do to me. We could make a really terrible couple, Yamcha- you know we both have our issues,' she stared at him. 'With everything that we know… what's waiting for us in the future… how can we afford to take a risk like this? How can we risk ruining what we have now and hurting each other? Can't we…' she turned away from him, eyeing the other side of the courtyard. 'Can't we just keep this at the level of where we are?'
Yamcha was never competent at love. He found it messy, and hard to express, and vulnerable. It would have taken an extraordinary day, and an extraordinary drive, to give him the clarity to make his case well.
This was an extraordinary day, and he was with an extraordinary person.
'I know… I know,' Yamcha said glumly, circling around Chi-Chi so that he faced her again. She didn't turn. 'This is dangerous, and stupid, and every other unflattering word considering what we know…'
He drew her gaze, first with his eyes, then with his tentative hands. 'But if today has taught me anything,' Yamcha stressed, 'it's that we're living on borrowed time, and I don't want to spend another minute wondering about what-ifs.'
His hands were held back deliberately, waiting. After a second, Chi-Chi reached out and seized them. 'I know you haven't exactly had great relationships in the past, and we all know I'm not the best in them, either... but I don't want to leave anything more to fate, or destiny, or timelines. I want to try and make this work, and I want to try and make this work with you.'
She smiled at him, holding his hands tight.
'I'll cool it on the crazy talk now.'
She laughed, releasing a stray tear from his right eye. Because she turned to wipe the tear away on the sleeve of her dust-stained armor, she failed to notice a similar tear roll down Yamcha's cheek and end itself on his orange gi's collar.
'One week?' Chi-Chi asked, staring at him down the bridge of his nose. 'That sound fair?'
'And if you don't like me,' Yamcha said, smile blazing, 'I'll get out of your hair.'
'This seems familiar.'
'That's because we've seen the future, Chi.' Yamcha brought his face closer to hers. She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. 'And you know what's waiting for us?'
Chi-Chi tilted her head, her hair swaying around her face. 'Death and destruction?'
'Maybe- but, before that…'
He started closing the gap; she met him halfway. The air and sun innervated the courtyard, and somewhere, a bird sang.
0o0o0
With a yawn, the Ox-King stretched his massive arms above his head and walked down a hallway. Maron had fallen asleep in the guest room, and he was close to doing the same considering what time they had woken up today. If he wasn't interested-slash-dreading to hear how and what happened today, he almost certainly wouldn't be dragging himself to the castle's courtyard to check again for Chi-Chi, or Yamcha, or…
He slowed, arms falling from the air above him. Gohan, motionless, was standing next to one of the hallway's slit windows, face pressed against it and staring through its thin crack. The Ox-King thought to ask a few questions- when did you get back? how'd you get back? where did you go?- but something about Gohan's face threw him off. Whatever was beyond that window had utterly seized his attention.
Scratching his head, the Ox-King lumbered over the nearest window to him and bent to gaze through it. We're facing the courtyard, right? So, then-
The Ox-King's body lurched forward, hands ramming into the stonework and shaking the window. 'Gohan!' he roared, twisting his head. 'Get away from that window!'
0o0o0
'Bulma.'
Presuming to be alone in her gardens, Bulma blinked, and glancing to her left and right, she spotted Piccolo's antennae sticking out above a nearby hedge. She had literally gone into the center of the grounds' seasonal hedge maze, set up on the plot of land where Ginyu and Recoome's prison had been- Bulma, unhappy with the ethics of that place and the memories it conjured, had ordered it deconstructed once Recoome had been moved out- so that she would avoid running into anyone else over the next few hours.
She wasn't sure how the others were taking it, but knowing her fate in another real timeline made Bulma feel almost betrayed. The time she spent in the PTO was her go-to example of a low-point in her life. She spent every waking moment there either worrying about Yamcha and Tien or trying not to die to gravity. How was it possible that she willingly chose to return to that? Was her parallel self thinking clearly when she accompanied Vegeta into space? That vicious, despicable monster?
She didn't know. The fact that she didn't know made her feel even worse. Too many possibilities, and not enough information to eliminate any particular explanation…
And now the Earth's loneliest alien was saying her name aloud… for conversational intents.
'What?' she sighed, dropping the lit joint from her right hand and stomping it underneath her boots. She hadn't used it, and actually, had never smoked one in her life- but she suspected that it would have helped calm her mind, here and now. Guess I won't be conducting that experiment, then.
Piccolo waited a second before speaking. 'I can sense you're alone. Correct?'
'If you can sense that, why are you asking me?'
Again, he waited. His antennae twitched. 'You are sometimes… with people that are too weak for me to sense.'
Bulma was thankful he couldn't see her unflattering expression. 'Is this you trying to be polite and failing miserably at it?'
'I am trying to be discreet,' Piccolo said. The hedge between them shook, and scowling, Piccolo strode through the thickly clumped brush, pulling his cowl free once through. He seemed to have redressed himself since Bulma had hooked him into her healing tech. Huh… that thing worked faster than I thought it would.
The Namekian frowned, creasing his skin. 'I also… have something to tell you.'
The center of the maze had a small stone terrace, nothing more than two benches facing each other. Bulma felt a little restless, so she paced to the far bench and sat on it. 'Yeah?' she asked, tapping her feet. 'What is it?'
Piccolo seemed to take Bulma's action as a cue to sit and did so on the other bench. 'I have some very particular knowledge that I was asked to pass along. Knowledge that I do not enjoy knowing and wished I hadn't been told.'
There was a clear unease in Piccolo's voice- something Bulma hadn't ever really heard before. But the prospect of something he hadn't already shared, something presumably told to him by the time traveler, and considering what had been occupying her thoughts for the last few hours…
Bulma leaned forward, staring at him. 'What knowledge? From the other timeline?'
'No,' Piccolo groused. 'I've already spoken of and denounced everything related to that.'
'Oh,' Bulma frowned and leaned back. 'I see.'
'It does concern you though.'
'What?'
Piccolo stared back at her, dark circles appearing around his eyes. Did Namekians sleep? To Bulma, Piccolo looked like he needed some. 'I was told to ask you to check your records of the West City incident- Raditz's attack, in other words.'
Bulma really hadn't thought it possible to physiologically screw up her mind any more today. But it turned out that shooting an entire week's worth of adrenaline into a fickle, ruminating mind was extremely unpleasant to experience.
'What?' she choked.
'He said Capsule Corp. assisted heavily in the humanitarian efforts after the battle.' Piccolo's gaze searched her. 'Combing through the ruins… and searching for anything of interest that was turned up.'
The air was so thick between them that Bulma could drown in it. She was drowning in it. Judging by his face, he knew-
'What you did in the aftermath of West City isn't my business,' Piccolo said, stone-faced, 'because, frankly, it had no impact on me… right?'
'Right.'
'And if it does?...'
'I'll contact you.'
Piccolo's eyes flickered between her and the ground. 'Alright.' He stood. 'Check your closets for skeletons,' he suggested, half-turning. 'I'm going to be at the Lookout for the foreseeable future. If you need to contact me, go there.'
Paling, Bulma nodded.
His face shifted, passing over a thought in his mind. 'We trust each other as allies,' he stated. 'Not as friends. If we only have a few years before the Earth goes up in flames, and if you have done something wrong… tell me, or anyone else who won't hold it against you- anyone else who realizes that we need to work past our mistakes if we want to avoid repeating history. Understood?'
'Crystal,' Bulma breathed, feeling some relief wash through her. Not a lot, but some.
He turned, cape waving behind him. 'Take care.' Gently, Piccolo rose into the air and flew off.
Bulma held her gaze on him for as long as she could discern him against the blue sky. When he was truly gone, she took a deep breath and burst through the maze, squeezing through hedges to get back to the main building as quickly as possible. If that time traveler knows even an ounce of something...
Shit! Bulma's pace picked up. Not a secret for him, then! Shit!
0o0o0
An expression was stuck to Yamcha's face as he flew across the ocean. Sapphiric water splashed and shined below him, shining as radiantly as his own smile. As far as he could see, the ocean stretched its waves and spray, running across the length of the world. He must have taken this specific route several times before- he must have passed over such majesty, oblivious to it, at times when his mind was preoccupied with other things, as he couldn't remember the look of the ocean as he saw it now. Brilliant, ebullient, and welcoming. The Southern Seas sparkled like nothing else in the world.
Yamcha could say the same about other things in his life. You know… I could just be seeing what I feel. A wide-open sea, shining…
Smirking, Yamcha angled his head towards the horizon. A single day with Chi-Chi had told him what he knew- it would work. Once she had gotten past her nerves- and his own, of course- they were... comfortable. It was hard to describe. He had only dated one person before… and the more he thought about that, the more Yamcha wondered how normal his time with Bulma had been.
Crazy to think that, just the other day, he was thinking about her all cooped up in West City. Not necessarily in a romantic way, but simply thinking about her. Until today, the dynamic at Fire Mountain had been weakening- Chi-Chi seemed reluctant to let things naturally develop any further between them. So Yamcha had begun wondering whether Bulma needed any help with any of her projects, even though her self-sufficiency had more than answered that question when he originally left a few years back.
Maybe Bulma would always have that place in his mind; sometimes, her and the thought of helping her would pop into his head, if only because he'd spent so much time doing that. She had always been more ambitious than him, more of a "go-getter". Supporting her was both needed and unnecessary. It had taken a few years, but Yamcha eventually realized that she would go on without him. Until recently, Yamcha hadn't thought the same was true for him.
His destination, nothing more than a growing dot of pink, appeared in his vision. Doesn't matter now. Yamcha rolled his shoulders and started slowing down. Bulma and me… it's in the past now.
Before he could fully settle in at Fire Mountain, Yamcha had to get his things from Kame House. It would never be totally his, and while he resolved to keep it in good shape, he felt some relief that he was moving out. His personal junk had accumulated in the building over the past few years as he routinely checked in on the island to see if any new prospective students had shown up. When he had started this martial arts teaching gig, Yamcha had taken the first few who had shown up as students due to its novelty, dismissed them once it became clear how lacking they were in talent and dedication, and made it a policy of denying almost everyone else who came after them. They didn't have the right stuff; too many beginners, and not enough already competent fighters that Yamcha thought he could take to the next level. There were, of course, a few talented individuals, but no one came close to his standards- and nor did they stick around.
Eventually, his reputation as a stingy master must have gotten around, because the pool of people reaching the island on a weekly, monthly, and yearly basis shrunk considerably. Either that, or the lack of any world tournament in the foreseeable future was discouraging people from the martial arts in general. Last Yamcha had heard, the group that owned the venue was still rapping on the doors of former associate programs and sponsors, begging for a donation to get the reconstruction work rolling.
With a soft tac, Yamcha landed in front of Kame House. I think Krillin voided his prize money due to the damage he caused… though… what did Tien do with his? His shack is nothing to write home about…
Yamcha internally questioned whether Tien would keep his Zeni in a bank as he padded across the sands, striding the length of the beach to the front steps. The ground around the house's base was upturned and thrown about- must have been another surge of water from the ocean. If he wasn't going to be back here in a while, he might have to think about waterproofing the building's first floor.
'Hello?'
A voice hit the top of Yamcha's head as he stared down at the sands. Blinking, he looked forward and up the length of the stairs.
At the top of the stoop, a muscled and barrel-chested man stood, arms wrapped around his meaty ribs and hands tucked between both. His tanned, olive skin, black, upwards-shooting hair, and vertical, rectangle-like face contrasted oddly with his fashionable light-blue jeans and buttoned-down plaid shirt. Sorta like a lumberjack who had moved south.
'Can you help me?'
Yamcha blinked again, and tilted his head to the left to see past the man. The door behind him was closed. 'Depends on what you need help with,' he replied, looking back at the man.
'I'm looking for the master on this island,' the man explained. He seemed to study Yamcha. 'You're wearing a gi.'
'I am.' Yamcha forced his face to be blank. First guy in a while… wonder what brought him out here?
'Are you him?' the man asked, point-blank, studying him.
His knee-jerk reaction was to say no- he didn't have his shell on his back, so it wasn't like he could be recognized as anyone of importance here- but he held back on speaking at the last second. As much as he was looking forward to packing up his belongings and joining Chi-Chi at Fire Mountain, another competing desire shot through his mind. After today, it might be years until he got another chance to train someone beyond Gohan- who was more a student of Chi-Chi's than his, and though he was fine with this, he would be misleading himself if he didn't acknowledge the disappointment he felt towards his residency here. He had come here with a clear vision of the future, and he hadn't made it a reality.
One student would have been enough. And there was the obvious need to acknowledge that, if he waited for a few more years, there was a good chance that fate and destiny would make sure he wasn't around at the end of that.
He eyed the man; he eyed him in turn. Pupils, light and faint blue, pierced him.
What the hell, right?
Yamcha's frown weakened. 'You've got me,' he said, climbing the stairs. 'I'm the Wolf Hermit… or something along those lines.' He extended his hand. 'You?'
Now on the stoop himself, Yamcha saw that the man was virtually level with his own height. He'll probably end up like the others, anyway. What's one more?
'Rush,' the man replied, smiling faintly and shaking his hand. 'So- are you still taking on students?'
'Show me what you've got, and I'll make a decision by the end of the day.'
0o0o0
Details very rarely-
Bulma shook her head, nearly staggering herself as she ran down a hallway and spun around a corner. No, Bulma, now's not the time for lying to yourself… to be more accurate…
Important details very rarely skipped out of Bulma's mind. She could be forgetful with eating, sleeping, affection towards others, and many other things… but her work was never something she half-assed. When she got down to a task, the world might as well have been whatever was in front of her and her hands. No one could ever fault her for lacking drive when set on something- and, somehow...
As Bulma shot into an elevator, punched in a ten-digit code into the keypad, and felt the thing around her lurch down, shooting past what was officially the lowest basement level, she realized why this had happened. I… forgot, she thought. I made sure to keep it such a secret that I forgot about it myself. Since it was right after the battle here, and I shot into space not too long after that, and then there was the Namek craziness, and the staff shake-up…
Bulma's mind raced as the elevator clunked to a stop. When's the last time I was down here? It must have been before we went to Namek. So… three years!? She rushed off of the platform, flicking up the floor-level light switch as she sprinted past it. Seriously!? Bulma, what the hell!?
Stretch-by-stretch, the corridor before her lit up, pale light casting odd shapes onto the grey-white floors and walls. This floor had been built quickly and sparsely, so as to make sure as few people as possible knew that it even existed. It was nothing more than a long hallway… and as Bulma reached the end of that hallway, where it opened up into a circular room, panels and consoles were arranged to form a halo around a central pylon.
This section of the floor had a separate circuit for its lights, and consequently, was submerged in a thick gloom. In that, Bulma could just make out a wide glass cylinder, shrouded by a retractable cover, running from floor to ceiling. From far away, and to those who didn't know better, it would look like nothing more than a support column.
She had thrown up this place as an afterthought- she had been too concerned with the mechanics of spaceflight and stitching together a plan to revive her friends in the aftermath of the attack on West City. But that afterthought was motivated by a deeply disturbing fear. What her workers had found in the ruins of West City… she had never wanted anything to do with it, but she hated the idea of burying it or losing what she found even more. Without supervision, bad things tended to end up in bad hands.
She had felt safer once this level was built and hidden away, locked and safeguarded by ten different keycards and passwords… though now Bulma felt what would have been the safest thing to do back then would have been to destroy it completely.
As Bulma walked around the room, punching in numbers and sliding in plastic chips, the sound of circuitry crackling filled the air. Tangible dust rubbed off of keyboards onto her fingers. No one had been in here for a long time. Please, please, please…
Bulma punched a final series of codes into the console closest to the approaching hallway and stepped back. Light shot on, illuminating the central pylon- a holding tank. Beneath its sheath, green fluid wobbled between the glass.
She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether she could close-up shop and turn around, not exposing herself to whatever she could learn by doing this. In all frankness, she would have done that if this was any other circumstance. She felt physically sick from even being down here. But when a time traveler said in no simple words to check something...
With a heavy, hitching breath, Bulma clenched her left hand into a fist and pulled back a lever with her right. The motors controlling the sheath's placement hissed quietly, disuse showing its wear, but after a few seconds, the cover began to recede into the floor.
It felt quicker than she remembered. Perhaps in the time it took to blink, the tank was exposed to her. That, and…
Clutching her stomach like she'd been punched, Bulma staggered back, breath frenzied. No… how?... Raditz's body… it's gone!...
0o0o0
'You look unwell, doctor.'
Gero could hardly imagine how ridiculous he must have looked. His body had been strapped down so that he wouldn't slide off when the metal table was angled forwards towards the viewscreen. Even now, it took all his strength to keep his head level with the glossy display.
They said there was always someone worse off than you, though. Seemed to be true in this case.
'As do you, Doctor Wheelo.'
The display fizzled for a moment, wavy white static distorting and pushing around an image of an encased brain. Pockets of air continually bubbled up through its green suspension. Gero wasn't quite sure why the viewscreen on Wheelo's end was set up to capture an unmoving, mute brain, but he certainly wasn't going to waste a minute of however much life was left in him on that banal topic.
'Both our bodies have failed our ambition,' the brain rumbled, its voice retaining a human edge even when delivered through a mechanical converter. 'That is nothing new to men of science, and is a tragedy the world is well acquainted with. So; my time is precious. Why have you contacted me?'
Dr. Gero appraised Raditz- rigid, guard-like, who stood near the comms terminal just to the left of the display- and took a deep breath. 'It was a few decades ago that you conducted external research for the Red Ribbon Army, correct?'
'It was, yes,' Wheelo answered.
'And, before that, we had studied together at the same institution, had we not?'
'Is your brain as soft as your body, Gero? Get to the point!'
'Okay!' Gero shouted. He was forced to catch his breath from that single act. 'Okay… I want to enter into a… research agreement, of sorts, with you. From one old colleague to another.'
The display went still, as if the connection had cut out and the computer was looping the last received image. 'You are a dying man strapped to a chair,' Wheelo said at last. 'I am a brain in a jar. What use are we to each other?'
'More than you would think,' Gero said. 'I believe fate, in its often ironic fashion, has struck us down for a reason. You conducted research into artificial bodies, did you not?'
'I did.'
'Did your research change when you lost your body?'
A mass of bubbles swarmed up across the display. Gero wondered whether there was any causal link between the rate of air release and metabolic activity within the tank.
'I shifted my focus onto biological integration,' Wheelo's voice, smooth, reverberated from the lab's speakers. 'My brain has become too unwieldy and… large… to ever be put into a convincing mechanical body. Instead, it is my hope that my research leads to a viable method to copy my brain's synaptic structure and force a realignment to that schematic within a suitable human subject.'
Gero's eyebrows crept closer to his eyes. 'Would that simply produce a second "you"? Two exact minds, one in a body, and one in that tank?'
'I would link my brain to theirs and asphyxiate the tank at the moment the process is completed,' Wheelo elaborated. 'It is my hope that my consciousness would have continuity with the copy so that I do not experience death. My mind will be transferred as one vessel is disposed of.'
'This is possible?'
'It is… not an exact science. Dr. Kochin, my assistant, would be able to answer more of your questions.'
'I see. And how close are you?'
Wheelo's brain… it almost seemed to move. 'That is a relevant question, isn't it?'
'Indeed it is. Can you guess what I have been researching for the past decade, Wheelo?'
The excitement rang in Wheelo's voice like a bell. 'Bodily integration? Gero… this is a pleasant surprise!'
'And my research focus has shifted since I became table-bound.'
'Artificial bodies,' Wheelo effused, his speech converter capturing every drop of pleasure as he said the phrase. 'Gero… I now believe fate has brought us together. We were meant to complete each other's lifelong dreams!'
'Your lifelong dream was to gain a body?' Gero asked, confused.
Wheelo's feed fizzled again as a roar came through it. 'Of course not!' Wheelo howled. 'I desire not just a body, but the body- the world's strongest body!'
'Of course,' Gero said, eyes darting away for milliseconds at a time. 'Of course.'
Raditz started to loom large in Gero's peripheral vision. If he decided to share everything he had with Wheelo- and Gero meant everything- there was no doubt Wheelo would be seduced by the genetic profile of a Saiyan. Their amazing longevity, endurance, and resilience… it was the closest thing to a perfect, natural specimen he had ever encountered.
And Gero only had one. One that he coveted. One that, as slight a chance it might be in his current state, he might one day acquire as his own. He couldn't give him up.
Before that day came, however, he would need to survive to that day, and to survive to that day, he needed an artificial body. Wheelo had decades of research and, presumably, a pair of hands that he could lend that could perfect his experimental artificial models. If Gero couldn't offer him a Saiyan… well…
'I know what you seek,' Gero said, eyes shooting back to the display. 'The world's strongest… many could lay claim to that title. And I know every single one of them intimately.'
'Truly?' Wheelo's brain loomed large on the display.
'Truly,' Gero assured him. 'They are old enemies of mine who all but destroyed the Red Ribbon Army a long time ago. Unbeknownst to them, I have tracked them every step of the way since that fateful day.'
'Impressive clerical work, Gero,' Wheelo complimented him. 'So, it is a matter of plucking one from their home, then?'
Gero frowned, recalling old, worn memories. 'They are not to be taken lightly. Their strength is nothing to scoff at… and it is actually because of their ability to surprise that I am currently bound to this table. We should be cautious and approach the eventual confrontation carefully. Prepare all that we can, test all that we must, so as to ensure the day of reckoning goes as planned.' Gero paused, thinking.
'That is the deal I offer,' he decided. 'My research for your research, and in addition, if you help me prepare an artificial body for myself, I will help you gather specimens and test subjects for my biological integration technology.'
Wheelo paused only a fraction of a second longer than him. 'That is agreeable,' he said. 'Send me the coordinates of your lab, and Dr. Kochin will come along with my research in tow and assist you in preparing your body.'
'Agreed.'
'Dr. Gero… I look forward to shaking your hand at the end of this.'
'As do I, Dr. Wheelo.'
The brain could not gesture or fidget or give any physical indication that the connection was about to cut, so Gero was caught off-guard when the display went black. Black-and-white static filled the screen, shining dull light onto him.
Gero looked to his left. Raditz stood, both eyes- one red pupilled, one black- trained on him and awaiting his command. Gero stared back, and with a sigh, let his head fall back onto the table.
A/N: Goddamn! I love fanfiction! If you all knew what was coming up… hot damn! There'd be riots of joy!
Next week, we start Metal. See you then.
Reviews:
Transformers g1's-Prime: Of course! S-tier is reserved for extra special people :)
Your theories are extremely interesting! I cannot confirm or deny any of them, but, wow, I did a lot of happy nodding to them when I read your review!
In its planning stages, the Android saga is, narratively, the most ambitious I've ever gotten with the plot in this fic. It might be a mess. It might be spectacular. We'll see!
Slienthawk170: Thank you for the review! And as for your question about Krillin, things are always up in the air, not to mention that strength isn't the only way to save the world…
I'm glad you've stuck around for so long! Happy holidays to you, too!
Cityracer: I wonder if you're going to love or hate all the crazy shit I put into the rest of this volume. It's going to be such a ride. I've seriously tested the limits of human cognition trying to keep all my ideas and planned scenes in my working memory.
I will probably keep calling Future Gohan Traveler until his identity is revealed to the gang… and, even then, I might keep calling him that for the sake of distinguishing him from actual Gohan. Depends how much of a role younger Gohan will play in the coming arcs, though- haven't firmly decided on his significance yet.
It is interesting that he knows so little… very interesting...
Unsupervised Saiyans running around the galaxy is never a good thing xD
Above all else, I am guilty of answering lingering questions and mysteries in the story. Rest assured that you will eventually get an answer to your question. Some things have changed between both timelines… and some things have not.
I am glad you have some distrust towards Traveler. This was intended :) Also, in terms of his history comment, I sorta brushed on a reason how I could see that working- a jaded survivor who has to live in the aftermath of a bad event might blame those who were associated with the time that bad event happened even if those associated had no power to stop it. Sorta like a rationalization for their shitty life and a way to psychologically distance and difference themself from those in the past.
TienFan99: Nice theory, and I cannot confirm or deny it :). Android Raditz though… whooooo, you know I (and Bulma!) have been holding him in my back-pocket for 35 chapters and COUNTING. That's nearly half the fic. His day is coming… and what a glorious day that will be.
As always, thank you for the review!
Guest: I love this comment! "This is amazing" is just vague enough to refer to whatever I want, so I'm going to bet you liked a whole bunch of different things :)
Last note for those who read through the reviews: I've reached a point where I have a number of special chapter ideas that I may or may not write up, and that would probably be posted as a different fic. Thought I'd throw the question out there; are there any parts or unexplored history to this story you think a special would be especially worthy for?
Actual last note: Does anyone remember what I've called the ocean around Kame House in the past? I feel like it was something different than "The Southern Seas", but I can't recall exactly what it was. Continuity is tough!
