Chapter 17: Ground Zero
Silence hung heavy over the City of Angels. In the preternatural dusk, light and sound were rare commodities as the barren wind blew through desolate streets. Life itself seemed to hold its breath, as darkness descended and the only movement was a stray paper sheet or a dirty leaf. No living thing moved or breathed, and nothing could be seen on the empty street. The world was in hiding.
Down Sunset Boulevard, away from the bright lights of the city center, streetlamps flickered above darkened storefronts. As the lights flickered, two jagged shadows appeared on the sidewalk. One was tall and thick while the other was thin and wiry. The two shapes crept through the darkness to the edge of a small pool of light, and then darted through to the safety of the next dark corner. The light revealed two young men, one with short-cropped dark hair wearing a plain white tanktop and baggy jeans, and the other with long hair wearing cargoes and a dark hooded sweatshirt.
Their careful steps made little noise, but their whispers were harsh in the still air. "Wait up!" Said the larger youth.
"Move it!" The smaller youth shot back. They continued now at a jog, the smaller youth outpacing the larger youth until they turned a corner and arrived in the relative safety of a small alley. The two crouched there, breath heaving.
"Do the words 'curfew' ever mean a fucking thing to you?" the larger youth growled.
"It doesn't when your mom says it!" The smaller youth shot back.
"That doesn't even make sense!"
"Neither does she!" The larger youth let out an exasperated howl as the smaller youth laughed between deep heaving breaths. "C'mon Dan, we had to come out. Eliana was going to Millie's. Eli-fucking-ana! I've been trying to get with her since junior year."
"Mike, Sarah said that Eliana was going to Millie's. Which she can't since she's up in Tahoe with her parents since last week!"
"Tahoe? Really? No one told me shit."
"Maybe because your 'network'," Dan made quote motions in the air with his index in middle fingers, "is either too stoned, too roided out, or too worried about the military occupation of LA to get their facts straight."
"Makes sense. You're the only non-meathead friend I got since Robbie disappeared." Dan sighed.
"It's only been a day. He went with his Dad to work this morning."
"Feels like a year for some reason."
"I know the feeling. But he's probably okay. I totally didn't want to go Eliana hunting tonight, but I thought him and his family would be at Millie's like usual. Guess normal was too much to ask tonight." Dan sighed deeply and stood up. Mike had already caught his breath and was leaning on the hard brick with his arms crossed, looking back and forth nervously.
"We need to get inside and off the street. Those army trucks are going to get down here eventually."
"Sure. Where to?"
"We can hide out at Bethany."
"The old church? It's either locked up or filled with drugged out hobos. Besides, that place is fucking creepy. If the zombie apocalypse starts anywhere, it will be that shithole. Can't we go to someone's house until morning? You've got to know someone around here."
"I'm thinking. Wait, weren't we here last month for something? We were going to meet this girl…"
"We were picking up Robbie! At Sid's house! Right over on Dahlia."
"Ehhhhh…you want to go visit Black Dahlia herself?"
"You're a dick."
"I'm a breathing dick! She's creepier than a drugged out hobo zombie any day!"
"I didn't say that the hobos were zombies…aww fuck it…let's go." Dan took off running with Mike trotting along behind.
The two youths ran down darkened sidestreets and up the steep hill of Dahlia Street. As the grade steepened, Dan began to breathe heavier. Mike easily overtook him and planted a palm on the back of his head as he passed.
"Dick!" Dan yelled. Mike laughed in return. The noise almost covered the steady roar growing behind them. Mike heard the sound and stopped.
"Shit..." Mike growled and dove without looking into a stand of banzai trees. Dan quickly followed.
"What the hell was that about?!" Mike motioned to the bottom of the hill. Black shapes with bright headlights rolled past.
"That shit. The army's been rolling around picking up stragglers ever since last night. Anyone who didn't get out in the evacuation has to stay put."
"And of course they didn't give anyone enough time. And what was that thing they were setting up downtown? Looked like a pole but there were a shit ton of soldiers guarding it."
"You saw another one? They were setting up one by me. It was weird though. They were dressed in grey camo and everyone else was in tan. And I don't know what they were packing but their guns looked badass. There was this one guy…"
"Dude shut it! I think one is turning up here!" Dan and Mike squeezed back into the trees just in time for a Humvee to roll up the road and past their hiding place. The black vehicle slowed and lit a questing searchlight through the trees over their heads. They held their breath. A squawk of radio chatter echoed around them, and the searchlight shut off abruptly. More chatter, and the Humvee sped off.
"Fuck that was close." Mike breathed out. The two young men took a breath and looked around. The street was dark and still in both directions. They climbed out of the banzai trees and began a slow jog down the street.
"There it is!" Dan cried out and turned toward a raised ranch with grey siding and two small trees in the front yard. Ducking behind the trees and looking around, they skipped the small, brightly lit front porch and ran around the side. A loud clattering echoed between the two houses as the young men battered the screen door.
Silence met their noise, until small steps could be heard tapping closer. The door opened. Behind the screen appeared a small, pale, delicate face contorted in a mass of confusion. Sydney wore her characteristic black hoodie with slits in the sleeves for her thumbs to emerge. Her thin obsidian hair covered black eyes and a pale face. She stared at the two boys through the screen.
"You're here." It was the barest statement of fact, devoid of any emotional judgment.
"Hey Sid…," Mike began to beam, his hand going up in a wave before Dan smacked it down with a beefy fist.
"Hi Sydney, it's Dan and Mike, Robbie's friends." The dark-haired girl frowned, then relaxed after the conspicuous change of tone.
"Hi Dan. Why are you and Mike out? The military has the city on lockdown. You could get in trouble." The tone of her voice suggested a slap on the wrist for a foolish act, not a potentially worse outcome.
"That's why we're here," Dan began, "We were out already when the lockdown hit, and we didn't have a place to go. So we hid until dark and came up here. Could we possibly crash here tonight? We'll sleep anywhere, promise."
"I don't know," Sydney said, "My parents were out of town and now they won't be able to get back in until after the city is open again. I don't think they would want you over here."
"Syd…ney," Mike stammered out "If we're caught out there we'll be in trouble like you said. You're the only person we know over here, and since you're a friend of Robbie we thought you could help us." Sydney's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before resuming their impassive mask. A small lock clicked open, and the screen door opened with a quivering creak. Sydney and the two boys walked up a short flight of stairs and found themselves in the tasteful living room of the Mayes house.
"Where is Robbie? Is he home safe?" Sydney asked, and Dan and Mike exchanged sideways glances. Dan took over the conversation.
"Robbie is with his dad. They went to his work this morning so they're probably spending lockdown there." A momentary tightness passed over the young girl's face. A momentary flicker on any other face struck like a thunderbolt across hers.
"Are you sure? You don't know?"
"We haven't talked to Robbie, but we're sure that's where he is." Mike replied.
"Like you were sure about thermal reactions in Chemistry last semester when you almost burned the lab down?"
"Hey that's below the fucking b…" Mike shot back.
"I would have lost my favorite hoodie if I had been standing any closer. It's fine. I'm going to call Robbie." Sydney pulled her phone from the front pocket of her hoodie, a black brick covered in duct tape. Something blue adorned the back, but neither Mike nor Dan could see. A quick dial, and her face was an impassive mask as the line rang.
After a moment, Sydney's face tightened again. The phone was calmly returned to its place, and she looked up at Dan and Mike. "He didn't answer."
"Of course because we have no clue…" Dan cut off Mike's angry retort with an elbow.
"Robbie left with his Dad. Worse-case scenario, his Dad knows where he is. In the meantime, we should just sit tight and ride out the lockdown." Sydney sighed gently. It echoed loudly in the quiet room.
"Fine. You two can stay. You sleep up in my room and I'll sleep down here." The two boys made no move to question her.
Suddenly, a flash of light erupted in the distance. Alarms blared through the quiet streets. The three youths gathered at the front windows as the blinding light overshadowed them.
Malcolm Barnes calmly tapped the arm of his leather command chair. An ironic gesture because he was anything but calm. In 24 hours he had transitioned from lowly scientist to orchestrator of humanity's greatest battle. Even better than his own lack of qualifications was his lack of the true soldiers he needed to fight.
Robbie had better come soon, and he had better be bringing friends. God help me, I would take Yamcha at this point. Or Raditz.
But nonetheless, he had soldiers. Soldiers and commanders. The military commanders, including the significantly more sour Marine commander, had left the lab and returned to their bases. They were still out there though, muttering with criticism and wounded pride. Malcolm had already forgotten their names because they were less important than the task at hand.
More important were the soldiers he had. At his command was a legion of troops known as Zero Division. ZeDi (he laughed inside because it sounded too much like Cat's personal specialty, and he was hungry every time he heard it) was now fully operational, equipped, and deployed to positions in the LA city center. This was ground zero, the confirmed location where Earth's first visitor would make planetfall.
He shivered involuntarily. He was a physicist, and not even a great one. He finished well below the top 1% of his class at Stanford, never won a Nobel Prize, and spent his life building trinkets for a little-known systems company in downtown LA. Not exactly top credentials, surely. Of course, building those trinkets was what got him in this mess in the first place since they just happened to have some interesting military applications.
But Malcolm was happy. He married his college sweetheart, bought a home, raised a son. This was it; this was life. He neither wanted nor needed any greater calling. Throwing a football on a well-manicured lawn in a neighborhood of well-manicured lawns was his life's joy. His only fear was losing his well-manicured paradise.
Until one day a grainy satellite image showed up in his office in a yellow envelope. The return address was an old classmate he had lost touch with when she went to San Francisco. Now, she was a high-ranking official within SETI. Tearing open the envelope absently, he expected a boring invitation to a conference or convention. It was typical of his academic colleagues to send him invitations to whichever event they were holding. Many of these found their way to the shredder. This one, though, was no invitation.
His hands shook as he held the single glossy 8X10 up to the light. He recognized it immediately, or at least the location: Pluto. That frozen Mickey Mouse mask was impossible to miss in the background. But that wasn't what terrified him. What terrified him was the grainy image off to the right. The image of something that definitely should not have been floating off in the darkness surrounding the former 9th planet.
It looked human. Malcolm quickly dismissed this thought, though, since no humans had made it out there and any human who did would have already exploded without a suit. This…whatever-it-was clearly possessed neither rocket nor suit.
It was over 9 feet tall and appeared mostly white based on the grainy photograph. Strange blotches of blue covered it in places, almost resembling glass, although that could be sunlight reflecting off metal. It had what appeared to be normal hands and feet, but in place of eyes there was only a cold blue visor. Almost Gundam-like, it floated out there in the black.
Robbie really has no idea how much of his collection I've raided for this project, he thought absently. He remembered coming home that night, shaken. After saying good night to his wife and son, he pretended to go to sleep, then slipped downstairs to the basement. There, in front of Robbie's computer and DVD collection, he went through every DVD his son had on Gundams, which were several. Once he had worked his way through Gundam Wing, he moved onto Gundam 0083, and it was downhill from there. Then he saw what Robbie and his friends were watching when he came home from work.
He remembered the cheesy hairstyles and glacial plot pacing first. He asked Robbie if he and his friends were watching reruns after seeing the 15th episode of Goku fighting Frieza. Robbie replied that no, they weren't, and that Goku was in fact fighting to survive the destruction of Namek in 5 minutes. Said 5 minutes took 20 episodes.
But eventually Malcolm was hooked. As his son and his friends ran through the front door in a chaotic explosion of bookbags, shoes, and bags of whatever awful salted snack they picked up from the bodega, Malcolm would calmly close his laptop and pace sagely from his home office. He worked from home every day the show was on, ready to sit down with everyone else. Aside from the strange glances of the kids, it was just a normal day of after school fun. Like the 1950s, but dubbed in English.
The children never guessed his purpose. He was doing research, as he always did. But this time, it wasn't for a random hair-brained trinket. Instead, it was for his most hair-brained scheme yet: how to fight an alien.
Watching Goku and Vegeta battling it out against the monstrous alien Frieza, Malcolm Barnes had his answer, and they were it. Malcolm had discovered how to reach other worlds years before, but aside from some protoplasmic weirdness, they had never contacted anyone, or anything, interesting. But it turned out they simply needed the right focus.
Using Robbie's tapes to target the right universe fell firmly in the realm of Processes Too Complicated To Explain, but Malcolm accomplished it nonetheless. And then, with the push of a button, he sent his only son to another world.
His hand fell.
A snap startled him from his daze. The snap rapidly built to a warble, and he knew instantly that it was starting. Shout echoed through the command room as readouts came to life, screens blazed, and keyboards clacked. But the focal point was outside the tower window.
A powerful light began to build in the center of LA. First a gentle glow, then a blinding spire slicing into the sky. He held a flimsy plastic shield over his eyes. Even still, he could not look directly. But this was not the part he needed to see. The next seconds would determine success or failure.
Slowly, the blinding spire continued to expand and spin. Then the middle bulged and expanded more rapidly than the rest of the glowing structure. Like a burning pizza of cold blue light, it stretched and flattened until it became a glowing disc, stretching first only a building's width across. The spin accelerated, and the disc grew, widening further and further in the sky until it encompassed an entire block. It expanded further, filling the sky in cold blue light, until the entire city fell under its shadow.
Malcolm watched, rapt. The blue light reflected brightly from every pair of eyeglasses in the room and captured many wide eyes. Then came the final change: the disc caved downwards, forming the beginning of a shining blue dome. The edges continued to close with the ground and touched down firmly outside the city center, settling neatly into yards, parking lots, and streets.
Displays lit with green while scientists scrambled with incoming phone calls. One young assistant with red hair and thick-rimmed glasses held two reports in each hand while her elbow deftly knocked the receiver off a screaming phone. She could be heard yelling, bent over the receiver "Confirm! Confirm! Can you confirm?" Satisfied, she nodded and leapt to her feet to run across the room screaming "Confirmed in Sector 8!"
Malcolm noticed that some marks showed red. Few, but some. Suddenly, the red-haired girl was running toward Malcolm's assistant, who was two desks over. She was visibly winded.
"Confirmed in Sector 8…sir." She added unsteadily. The girl wore a white lab coat over a pair of ripped capris and a tight Misfits t-shirt. His assistant nodded once, then said curtly, "Ready phase two." Now that the loud shouts and confirmations were winding down, a deep murmuring started. The words "Ready phase two" echoed through the din. Malcom knew what was coming.
The last of the tall metal spires had been put in place two hours ago. ZeDi troops (his stomach rumbled again) now guarded positions throughout the city. These rods were the next phase of the defense. Across the city, a white glow began to gather at the tops of the spires and ZeDi troops took cover behind barricades. More switches were thrown here in the command center, and down in the streets a new light began to build. Small motes of white began to hum and build until they reached critical mass. Malcolm counted absently to five. His finger ceased tapping.
The light erupted. Supercharged bolts of translucent white lanced from the ground and climbed hungrily into the sky. The air was soon filled with storming bolts. Two new lights entered the fray: test drones fitted with rapid engines to dodge most human weapons. Malcolm had supervised the team which designed them. They outran TOW missiles, tomahawks, and even predator drones.
The lights from the ground found them. They were vaporized without a trace. Malcolm smiled. All around him, cries continued to build and echo. Thumbs were raised, confirmations were declared, and lights turned green. All indications showed that Earth's defenses were ready.
Malcolm watched the storm of light with a muted gaze. The enemy would soon touch down, and this was the welcome that metal monster would get. He knew they would stand their ground and breathe their last, if only to buy humanity another second for his son to save them all.
The path ahead lay splintered and broken across a cold tile floor. A window in front of him let in cold light. Silence fell in the dimness, and around the corner lay only shadow. Robbie almost shivered in the dark. In front of his feet lay the cold marble doorway. He need only take a step forward to cross it, but the only muscle which twitched was his tail still wrapped tightly around his waist.
He almost twitched with laughter; he was not this afraid the last time he sparred 18. But this was no sparring match. She was no longer his enemy, but her own. Robbie knew that the only great enemy a warrior had was himself. All others could be analyzed, weaknesses could be found, new tactics created, but you could never outsmart an enemy who knew you through and through.
To save 18, though, he first needed to overcome himself. With a titanic force of will, he took a single step. He expected an immediate reaction to the sound of footsteps on tile, but again only a cold breeze met him. He stepped forward again and turned the corner.
The blonde android sat naked on the cold tiles, arms and legs folded into herself. She huddled without shivering, a motionless pantomime of frigid discomfort. Her back rested against the edge of the toilet. The tub next to her was filled to the brim with steaming hot water. Her clothes floated weakly on the surface. As Robbie stepped in front of her, her head fell on her arms, eyes locked with the floor. Nothing in her composure suggested an opening. But, he remembered, he would have to make one. First, he turned his back.
"You know, you're going to want something to wear when our training starts. I tried running sprints with no underwear once, and it was no fun." He strained his ears to hear movement. His Saiya-jin ears could barely pick up the movement of skin against skin, much less any words. Eighteen was silent. He continued.
"Okay, so this is no time to be funny." Robbie sighed deeply and realized he had no idea what to say. Everything that came to mind was either a cliché or a platitude so trite he wanted to punch himself for trying to think of it.
"Eighteen," he started "I see that something's wrong and I want to help. I don't know what's wrong though."
"Sounds like you're clueless." Finally, her voice cracked through the silence, low and defeated. Robbie turned to find her head up, but her gaze falling at knee level.
"I know I'm clueless, but that's why I'm here. I want to…" Eighteen cut him off with a harsh glance, with more fire in those cold blue eyes than he had seen today. But something dark and broken came through from behind them as well.
"You only want me for my fists. Oh well, I suppose that's better than anything else." Robbie, naïve as he was, managed to read some of the darkness coming through and caught her veiled meaning.
"Eighteen, I have never wanted that."
"Of course. Even horny little boys draw the line at world killers." Robbie bristled.
"Is that all you think of me? This horny little boy ended your rampage." Too much, Robbie thought as the words left his lips. Too much of the Saiya-jin which still boiled inside him. He watched her eyes to see if anything made an impact. Nothing. Her flat stare remained.
"I don't care. You're still a horny little boy. And horny little boys only ever want one thing from me. They wanted sex. You want help. None of you get it." Eighteen's hard stare returned. And she held that stare as she rose to her feet. Robbie couldn't help but notice the form completely exposed before him. He tried mightily, but 17-year-old Terran and Saiya-jin influence would only allow so much self-control. He looked at her with only a marginal attempt to avert his eyes. "So either take what you came for, kill me, or leave. I don't care which." Eighteen sat back down on the floor, completely motionless.
Robbie, deflated, left. Hours later, he returned to find her seated in the same position, in the same place. He left her seated in the bright beams of the moon falling over Kame House.
He expected that the shock of breaking down the door would have shaken something, but the young naivete of the earth-boy-turned-Saiya-jin was no match for the deep-seated stoicism of Eighteen. Robbie correctly assumed that he needed to shake the defenses of Eighteen, but he was vastly unprepared for the force needed to break down walls deeper than his well-manicured existence had ever let him see. Eighteen had simply fallen deeper than Robbie could reach.
Again, Robbie felt helpless. And there was no way to fight through it. He couldn't get stronger, or hit harder, or move faster. These things were meaningless next to the broken hollowness he saw behind Eighteen's eyes. He could kill her, and she would welcome it with open arms.
In the fight against the Androids, Robbie knew he would need help. He found that help in Trunks, but who could he go to now? Who could know the inward heart of a woman-turned-machine?
The answer struck Robbie all at once. And he cursed himself for not thinking of it immediately. He may be out of his depth with an android femme fatale, but he knew someone who wasn't.
Robbie rushed downstairs in a flash. Belatedly, he realized that many pictures on the stairwell had been pulled down, along with several pieces of the wall itself. He made a face as he once again realized his newfound speed and strength. He had been a Saiya-jin for months, and a Super Saiya-jin for days, but he was still a rowdy boy at heart. He was just glad old Master Roshi wasn't home.
He strolled at a more controlled pace through the living room, looking for…something. To be clear, he was looking for whatever passed for a telephone in this world. He knew most of them had screens for video calls, but after pulling up sheet after sheet, no futuristic gadget with a screen emerged. He was stumped. He had no way to make a long-distance phone call. And in the chaos of battling the Androids, he had never thought to pick up a mobile.
Giving a quick shrug, he knew there was nothing for it. He had to go himself. Peeking up the stairs, he saw that the moonbeams still poured into the hallway with no sign that Eighteen had left. Hopefully she would be fine for a few minutes. Robbie was faster now that he could fly near the speed of light, but he couldn't go that fast when he was making a quick hop to West City. Robbie was out the door and airborne before he could finish any more thoughts. Most of them sucked anyway, so thinking was a good habit to drop at the moment.
Once he was a few klicks out, he couldn't hold on any longer. The desire had been building in him ever since he woke up and it was stronger now that he was out and away from Eighteen. Actually, he realized the only reason he hadn't was because of her. A true Saiya-jin wouldn't have thought twice, but Robbie's Saiya-jin nature was born from the Dragon's magic and much of Robbie's human nature remained intact. Sometimes he felt like Vegeta with Goku's head injury, but he was getting by. So far.
With Eighteen gone, it was time to go Super Saiya-jin.
Robbie reached deep, going into a part of him he didn't know existed until Bridgetown. Reaching, reaching…he grabbed hold of that vast well of power and set it free. Standing in the sky above a shining ocean, his black hair shifted gold and his brown eyes shifted blue. Golden light began to engulf him as the ocean shook and the clouds fled. Finally, Robbie's power erupted in a brilliant flash.
Robbie stood in the sky, engulfed in gold. Eyes closed, he drank in a power he could never imagine having. Opening his eyes to the moonlit ocean and the sparkling waves, he felt powerful, if only for a moment.
That moment soon began to slip, and he remembered that the only reason he was out here was because his power didn't matter. He was neither prepared nor capable to handle the current crisis, and he had no answers. For that, he needed one of the few certified geniuses in this universe. He needed Bulma. He needed a scientist…and a woman…to get through Eighteen's software, hardware, and wetware.
Remembering that he left Eighteen sitting on the bathroom floor at Kame House, Robbie took off. West City was far off, but the Super Saiya-jin boost propelled him through the sky like a golden thunderbolt. Many birds and more than one air car driver found their feathers ruffled. In a heartbeat Robbie was soaring through the skyline of West City. Slowing down, but still booking at a respectable clip, he crossed the city and aimed himself into the top floor of Capsule Corp like the graceful arc of a beer pong ball. Granted, it was water, but still.
In normal times he would have landed on the grass and walked in. These were not normal times. He alighted on a balcony as he released his Super Saiya-jin energy, opened the door, and darted down the hall running at base form normal. He could sense Bulma within. In the few seconds before he closed on her location, he could sense that she felt…relaxed. Relaxed and comfortable. And warm. Robbie almost regretted having to storm into her home in the dead of night, but it had to be done. He passed through the last door, paying little notice to where he was going, only knowing that Bulma was on the other side.
The door opened into the master bathroom. There in the shower, standing comfortable, relaxed, warm, and nude was Bulma.
Robbie stared. Bulma turned. The screaming began.
Robbie flew out of the room and closed the door, but futuristic steel could not hold back the tide of curses and deprecations pouring from the ruffled scientist. Screams of "rude little boy", "all saiya-jins are the same", and other choice phrases Robbie would never repeat in his mother's hearing continued in a storm of indignant ire. Robbie would faceplant if he wasn't so intent on keeping the door shut.
The screaming stopped.
Robbie heard the water stop, a door opening, and a rustling sound coming from inside the room. Then silence. Robbie could hear assorted grumbling along the lines of what Bulma had shouted earlier. He waited not-so-calmly by the door.
While he waited, he had a few moments to process what he had just seen. Barely. Robbie's 17-year-old brain could scarcely comprehend the figure of loveliness he had just seen. He was stuck at 'boobs.'
Calm it dude. Don't turn this into another Mary Sue schtick. You've gotten enough of those already," he said to himself, beyond ironically. He was an OC who crossed worlds and became a Super Saiya-jin. Getting freaky with Bulma would just turn his epic story into shitty fanfiction. He had better things to do, like save his world and his family. That being said, nobody saw Vegeta and her happening until it, well, happened.
Bulma's voice from inside broke through his thoughts. He heard her call to come in, containing far less ire than he expected. Robbie stepped in.
"Um, hi Bulma." Bulma stood in the spacious master bathroom dressed head to toe in towels made from seafoam fluff. Arms crossed and eyes leveled, she looked like a fuzzy cat. A fuzzy cat ready to claw Robbie's eyes out.
"What is it with SAIYA-JINS and CATCHING ME NAKED IN THE SHOWER." Bulma screamed. Age had not dulled her rhetorical abilities. Nor, Robbie noticed, had it dulled anything else.
"Um, sorry…?" Bulma met his apology with an exasperated sigh and settled down. Robbie, true to form, soon forgot the need for tact. "For what it's worth, you look great tonight." Bulma's eyes darkened further. Robbie blanched. Bulma sighed again.
"So, rude little boy," she said, accompanied with a most epic case of side-eye, "What can I help you with?" Robbie sighed, relieved to see that the storm was over.
"It's Eighteen. Something's wrong."
"She's a killer android built by a maniac. Can you be more specific?"
"I mean she's…depressed." Robbie would eventually explain the hallucinations and the near catatonic state, but he decided he would start slow. In response, Bulma stepped out into the main room and sat down. Robbie joined her on a chair across from her, his tail falling neatly around his waist. Bulma settled herself, waves of seafoam tightly covering her. Even so, Robbie couldn't help but notice her shapely thighs. Staying focused was a struggle.
"So," Bulma returned, "How depressed is she? She only murdered half a planet." Robbie's hopes began to deflate, and he was running out of numbers to count how many times he'd kicked himself today.
"Basically, I think that's it…but she started hallucinating today, and I think it had something to do with her family."
"Family? She's an android. Her mother was a mainframe and her father was a psychopath." Robbie stopped for a second. Bulma doesn't know?
In the layers of backstory on his world, the Androids were always known to have been human once. This was kind of a theory until Toriyama confirmed it a bunch of times. Then some goofballs on YouTube put it in the abridged version and the rest was a hilarious clusterfuck. Robbie tried not to laugh, but then again the history of the Androids was never really funny.
Millions of fanboys and fangirls knew, but Bulma didn't.
"Bulma, I can't tell you how I know this, but the Androids used to be human. Gero found them somewhere and made them into the Androids. Not only are they human, they are actually brother and sister. I don't know much more than that."
"More things you can't tell me. You're a mysterious rude little boy." Bulma smirked at him. Although 'smirk' was more like 'multifaceted glance of simultaneous disdain and flirtation.' Or maybe he made up the flirtation part. Either way, he was getting hot under the collar. And other places. He kept one balled fist strategically placed.
"I'll give you the story. When I think you're ready for it." Robbie gave his own smirk. Bulma's face grew wistful.
"Now you look like a Saiya-jin," she said, almost to herself. "So, what can I do for you and your new friend?"
"Honestly," Robbie said while scratching the back of his spiky-haired head, "I don't know. For us to beat the enemies ahead, we need everyone ready to fight. And right now Eighteen isn't. She barely moves. If we go back now, she'll probably still be in the bathroom!"
"Wait, do you have Trunks watching her? And where is Seventeen?" Bulma's eyes widened momentarily. He did not need her to go full mom at the moment.
"Don't worry, Trunk and Seventeen are up by North City. We split up after Bridgetown to get the twins apart. We decided…"
"You decided to leave my son alone with one of them?" Bulma was going critical. Robbie inwardly sighed as he schooled himself to a visible calm.
"Saiya-jins get zenkai boosts, Androids don't. Besides, Trunks and I are monitoring each other's power levels. If there's a problem with one of us, the other will know."
"Fine," Bulma growled, settling back into the seat and crossing her arms, "But don't expect me to like it. I've spent my life listening to numbskull aliens telling me everything will be A-OK. Most of them turned out to be wrong."
"I expect to be the exception." Robbie instinctively looked out the window, hoping that turned out to be true. "Now, are you ready to get going?" Bulma quirked an eyebrow.
"Now?"
"Yes. No time to lose." Bulma groaned.
"Well then, let me at least get myself decent." Bulma smiled.
"Of course. As decent as you can in 5 minutes. No time for makeup." Robbie smiled back.
The minutes passed. Ten minutes later, Bulma strolled out dressed in a jumpsuit the same seafoam color as her robe. Hair pulled back and a 'Capsule Corp' hat pulled down on her seafoam colored hair, she looked ready for work in the lab. She might just get that and then some. Although Robbie felt, deep down, that what he was asking was going to take more than even Bulma's abilities at the moment.
"So," she asked, "How exactly did you get here? You don't have an aircar, do you?" Robbie smiled.
"You wish. We're flying." Bulma sighed audibly.
"I've always hated this part." Moments later, Robbie streaked across the sky in a stream of blazing white. In his non-ascended state and with a human passenger, he traveled much slower than before, but still with sufficient time to get back to Kame House before Eighteen did anything rash. Hopefully. Robbie was still betting on her sitting on the bathroom floor.
Truth be told, Robbie was distracted. Once again, he was sharing a long trip with Bulma. Once again, they were in close quarters. And once again he had the same embarrassing reaction. At least they weren't in the same compromising position this time.
The miles passed quickly as they flew through the night. Bulma held on calmly, but inside she truly hated flying in or on anything without Capsule written on it. This did not include her son. He was as reckless in the air as he was anywhere else, and the one time she did need him to take her anywhere, she was seriously ready to ground him by the end. So flying in the arms of a Saiya-jin was terrible. Flying in the arms of a newly minted Saiya-jin with Dragon-granted powers AND less sense than her son was even more so. Still, the flight was uneventful and Bulma lay comfortably in the Saiya-jin's arms. As the minutes passed she calmed enough to take in the scenes.
She remembered passing over these same hills and jungles years ago, before the world went dark and all her friends were lost. She remembered flying in her aircar on her way to or from the latest adventure, whether hunting the Dragon Balls or working to stop the latest enemy or going to the latest tournament. She missed those early years on Papaya Island, and all the ones in between.
Papaya Island went up in smoke a few years back. The Androids were curious and the military showed up, and that only ended one way. Another old haunt gone. Now she was going to another, and she winced with remembrance.
The ocean came into view, but Bulma smelled it long before she could see it. Salt, sand, and wind with the echoing cries of seagulls reminded her of better days. She looked down over the sea to the darkened shape of Kame House keeping silent vigil over the moonlit waves.
As her eyes trailed along the beach she spied an odd sight. A small black shape sat at the edge of the water, pulled up on the sand. Outside of it, trailing from the black shape to the tree line of the jungle, she saw footprints. The footprints started as two shapes and then became one as they tumbled into the forest.
Bulma gasped. Then the moonlight caught the black shape and she could see clearer: an old rusted submarine, the hull battered and the periscope bent at a 90 degree angle. It clearly wasn't destroyed, but it had seen better days. Half the word 'Capsule' was rubbed off.
Roshi. Bulma shifted uncomfortably in Robbie's arms. When the world went dark he disappeared. Of course, that was after everyone was dead, so who could blame him? Judging by the footprints, they had made it to the jungle, but there was no way to know where they went from there. Maybe one day she could find them. In the meantime, she looked back to the waves, wiping her face and eyes clear.
Robbie flew to the other side and banked, dropping tight to the water and rushing through the night to Kame House. He stopped short on the sand. Bulma felt like the green was nearly thrown from her hair. She shakily set her feet on the soft ground. She started walking to the door, not even thanking Robbie for the ride.
Robbie looked on. Bulma took slow, shaking steps toward the house. Robbie followed. She stopped at the door and peered in. Robbie finally reached forward to let her in. She took several more shaking steps. Without thinking, Robbie pressed a steadying hand against her back. Finally, she stopped and sighed deeply.
"So, who cleaned up in here," Bulma asked. Robbie beamed in response. "Well, at least there's one boy in my life who knows how to clean up." Bulma smiled. "Now…where is she?" Robbie nodded upstairs.
"She's up in the bathroom. I think."
"Let's go find out." They began to walk upstairs in the dim light. They reached the landing and walked into the bathroom, Bulma going in first. Bulma stopped, with Robbie standing outside staring in. Robbie couldn't see Eighteen, but the strained mask on Bulma's face told Robbie everything.
Robbie knew he had failed to calculate the cost to Bulma in all this.
Shaking his head, he stepped forward until Bulma waved him back. The strained look remained, but she was definitely shifting into scientist mode. The same look was on her face as when they were climbing into the Time Machine for the first time. Robbie let his breath out in a muted rush.
Bulma reached into the pocket of her jumpsuit and pulled out a small gray disk with an antenna on top. Robbie knew immediately what it was before Bulma spoke.
"Eighteen, do you know what this is?"
"I can guess." An unseen voice echoed in the dimness.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help."
"I killed him." Silence reigned. Bulma's mask wavered.
"I know," Bulma said, her eyes never leaving Eighteen. "Are you ready?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"You're fast enough to stop me. The choice is yours."
"People die when I choose."
Bulma clicked the button and silence reigned. Bulma suddenly whispered in the dark, a harsh whisper which would have been only a mumble to a human being but erupted in Robbie's ears like a thunderclap out of a clear sky: Can't argue with that, you bitch.
She exhaled loudly and turned to Robbie. "Step one is finished. Now the hard part. Bring her into my lab in the basement."
"What lab in the basement," Robbie said, "I only found the utility panel."
"The other basement." Robbie's quizzical look said that Robbie had not, in fact, found the other basement. He hoped this wouldn't become a pattern. Bulma shook her head. "Fine. Grab her and follow me." Bulma headed down the stairs, leaving Robbie to gather up the incapacitated android.
Her head had rolled back and her eyes looked up at him, lifeless and glassy. Robbie shivered as he stooped down to gather her into his arms. He followed Bulma down the stairs.
She stood in front of a small panel. Robbie had thought it was a circuit breaker, but Bulma opened a small unseen slot. A red light bathed her right eye, and suddenly the wall opened, panel and all, revealing a gleaming metal staircase. She started down, with Robbie following behind.
The stairway opened into a spacious metal room, sterile and clean, packed with equipment. He had seen something like it animated, but he always thought this room was at Capsule Corp. What else didn't he know?
There was only one table in the room, cleared and ready for a human occupant. Robbie laid Eighteen down. Bulma began moving around the table, taping electrodes and sensors to the Android's skin. She stopped near Eighteen's waist, holding a flat connector in her hand and looking the Android up and down.
"What's wrong?" Robbie asked. Bulma's brow furrowed.
"Given the state of cybernetics back when these two were built, there should be some kind of master interface port. I need to find it so I can download her source code." Robbie was more lost than ever. He was currently more geek than nerd, so he was long on trivia and short on actual knowledge. Suddenly, though, his geekdom gave him an idea.
"Try the back of her head at the base of the neck." Bulma looked at him quizzically, then turned Eighteen's lifeless head. Pulling back some blonde hair, a flat black port emerged.
"Good guess, little boy." Robbie beamed. Bulma locked the cable into the port, and turned on the mysterious computer behind her. For a few moments, she stood at the keyboard clicking out commands in a script more convoluted than his best attempts at Bash. Robbie expected she was going to fall quickly into her trademark trance as she plowed through the problem at hand.
Robbie turned to go, but Bulma's voice stopped him at the door. "We're done. For now."
"What?" Robbie turned, incredulous. Bulma had turned and was walking toward him.
"I've started the diagnostics. The computer is pulling her source code and system logs, but with the amount of data she's holding, it will take hours. Probably all night." So, Robbie thought, no answers tonight. Bulma brushed past him and started up the stairs, the bounce in her step somewhat returning. Looking back, he caught a quick sideways glance as she walked up the stairs. "So, let's relax for a bit."
He followed her up, careful to follow the sway of her green hair and not…anything else. Soon they were standing in the gray kitchen, the only light filtering in from the midnight moon. Moonlight caught Bulma's hair through the open window, giving her the air of a ghost, or a dream. Robbie watched her movements as she walked to the kitchen counter and set down two objects he didn't notice she was carrying: a metal box and a glass bottle. The bottle looked like wine (or liquor) and he hadn't the slightest clue what was in the box.
All that he knew was that liquor didn't work anymore. He remembered back when he and Trunks were training, a month after he had come back from the past a Saiya-jin, when he and Trunks found a bombed out liquor store. The front windows were shattered and the sign collapsed, but half of the bottles were still intact. They celebrated a good day of training with about 50 bottles each. Robbie gorged on tequila and rum, while Trunks managed to find several dozen bottles of vodka. Neither had a respectable buzz until around the 40th bottle.
"Feel like a drink?" Bulma asked, looking sideways with a smile. Robbie didn't have the heart to tell her that she might as well give him water. Then Bulma turned toward him, a bottle in one hand and a syringe in the other. Robbie's breath caught for a moment.
"Um…what's that?" Robbie asked.
"This is South City rum, back from when there was a South City." Bulma replied nonchalantly.
"The thing in your other hand, Bulma." Robbie crossed his arm and tried to sound admonishing. A difficult feat when the person you're admonishing is twice your age and a genius. Bulma laughed and jokingly crossed her eyes.
"Oh my, I almost forgot!"
"You rarely forget. That's why you're here, remember?"
"You have so much confidence in me. Anyway, you know how Saiya-jins process alcohol right?"
"Yes, really fast," Robbie replied, "I've had some experience."
"Like when you and Trunks had a party in the old liquor store?" Bulma crossed her arms and lowered her eyes in her own, more practiced, admonishing glare. Busted.
"Yeah, like that."
"So, this serum was something I developed several years ago. I originally came up with it before the Saiya-jins showed up. Luckily Goku learned something more useful than what I found. But I eventually perfected the formula."
"So what does it do?"
"Temporarily suppresses a Saiya-jin's metabolism." Robbie nearly choked. That could be dangerous.
"And why in Kami's name would you need that? Couldn't someone get a hold of it and use it against us?"
"They could, but let's just say it only works under certain…applications. By the time I perfected the formula, we had already defeated Frieza twice and were living peacefully on Earth. Vegeta was around and we needed to…well we couldn't get drunk together while he was fully powered." Robbie heard the unspoken meaning loud and clear. But why did she want him to…?
"Isn't that a little risky? What if something bad shows up?"
"You can easily counter the effects with the Super-Saiya-jin transformation. Found out the hard way on date night with Vegeta early on. Goku showed up without warning, and suddenly Vegeta just HAD to spar…" Bulma shook her head. "So anyway, you let me give you the serum, and then we do shots!" She smiled at him like a sorority girl. Robbie caved.
"Okay, hit me up." Bulma took his arm and drove the needle home.
Robbie immediately felt dizzy, and had to reach out for a chair to steady himself. He gripped the top of the chair, but the only mark he made was a faint imprint. At full strength it would be splinters. The serum worked. In moments Robbie felt fine, if noticeably weaker. Strangely enough, he was ready for a drink now more than ever.
"Okay, I'm ready for a shot." Bulma raised the bottle and shook her head.
"You want it, come get it!" And she darted out into the moonlight. Robbie thought to himself Haha, good luck against superspeed, nerd queen. But when he leapt forward to dart out the door, he moved in seconds rather than milliseconds. Usain Bolt would still envy his speed, but he was many orders of magnitude below lightspeed.
Bulma was already sitting on the sand when Robbie came around the other side of Kame House. An open bottle indicated that Bulma had started without him. Robbie ran up and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Tag. You're it." Robbie smirked. Bulma's face immediately fell to a pained expression.
"Oh dear me," she said, fluttering a hand to her head "my legs are too weak to run!" She giggled. Robbie laughed as he dropped to the sand next to her.
"Fine. You're trapped. Pour me shots and I won't Kamehameha you into oblivion."
"You don't know the Kamehameha." Bulma fired back, still smiling and fixing him with big, bright eyes.
"Goku learned it after seeing it once."
"Goku was a fast learner." Robbie grabbed his heart.
"Bulma uses BURN. It's super effective!" A running joke from Mike and Dan. Bulma stared at him blankly. Oops.
"Anyway, weirdo, ki-blasts won't save you from my attacks. Although, you are adorable even when I don't understand a WORD you're saying." She smiled, and began filling a shot glass with whatever was in the bottle. An underage Robbie waited eagerly. Bulma poured another for herself and held the glass to his. The moon reflected off the liquor, the glass, her hair, the ocean…everything. They tapped their glasses once to the sand and downed their drinks in unison.
Robbie winced as the booze went down. Bulma smiled and laughed, completely unaffected. Robbie noted ruefully that drinking seemed to go hand in hand with genius, meaning Bulma was a pro at more than just computers.
"Now," she said, "how are you feeling?"
"Truth be told I feel…buzzed." Robbie laughed drunkenly and waved his head in exaggerated stupor. Bulma placed a hand on his arm to steady him, mock concern pasted over her face. Robbie laughed again.
"Well in that case," Bulma said "you should probably have another to balance you out!"
"I don't think that's how it w…" Robbie began but was cut off by another shot dangling in front of him in the moonlight. Several thoughts came to mind, including "this is probably illegal" and "my parents would kill me" but Robbie happily accepted.
The second went down like the first, with less burning the second time. "I think I'm getting the hang of this!" Robbie said. Bulma looked over at him and smiled.
"You'd better, kid. Haven't you had a couple years of practice?"
"Practice? Well yeah, but in my world I'm not supposed to. Not until 21." Bulma blanched in mock surprise bordering on real shock.
"They don't let people drink until 21?! When do you get to vote? 50?"
"Um…18." Bulma's shock intensified as he eyebrows went up.
"So in your world, I would be a criminal?"
"Basically." Robbie laughed again. "So you're not here?"
"Of course not. At 12 you can drink, at 15 you can buy a round. You should have seen how drunk I was after the first world tournament."
"The one where Goku almost won?"
"You're not narrowing it down…"
"Oops, sorry. The one where he fought Jackie Chun?"
"That one."
"And where did you celebrate?" Robbie asked.
"Right here. All of us laid out in the sand in the moonlight, laughing the night away. Goku and Krillin even had a few. Roshi had more than a few and was surprisingly happy about Goku taking second place…" Robbie laughed nervously. Bulma smiled, then grew quiet.
They looked silently over the moonlit ocean, calmly enjoying the waves. Robbie peeked over at Bulma, her eyes fixed on the water and million other things he knew he couldn't see. He turned his eyes back to the water himself. Without warning he felt her two arms wrap around him and her head settle into his shoulder.
He stiffened, but was not entirely shocked. He merely wrapped an arm around her and settled back. They sat in silence as the moon weaved a milky path across the sky. Night passed into morning, and they slept until the sun rose to greet them and the day began.
Seventeen braced himself, setting his stance while his hands slowly came up into position. He kept loose, his hands open and fingers spread wide. A brief moment flashed from a memory buried deep in his wetware: a shaky kid standing on the playground, hands balled into tight fists, shoulders slumped. It was a horrible stance, and he was a horrible fighter. Back then, he took a beating long enough for Eighteen to get away. Now, he was ready for anything.
Anything should include the lavender-haired brat across the canyon. Standing tall on the opposite ridge, stance and eyes set, he was the picture of a champion. Hair that had not turned gold swept by the mountain wind, eyes not turned blue fixed on him across the murky chasm. The bright sun of the morning glinting off the hilt of his sword peaking over one shoulder. He was confident and ready. Seventeen couldn't decide if this was the same as the times before or different. He would have thought it would be the same forever, but then a little wrinkle called Bridgetown happened. So there was that.
"Hey!" Trunks called out across the chasm. Seventeen only stared back. "Remember, this is training this time?" Seventeen smirked. He was surprised he could even say that after yesterday.
"Sure thing kid. Keep the face blows to a minimum."
An unspoken signal, and the two fighters leapt across the chasm. A fractured second passed as they hung suspended, and then they connected in a rush of air and ki. Forearms clashed, followed by feet and fists. They locked in air for a moment, and then began in earnest.
Seventeen restrained his aggression from the previous day and let the kid come at him. True to form, Trunks charged in with an aggressive jab followed by an equally aggressive cross, a flurry of punches later, and the first roundhouse came for Seventeen's head. Seventeen tilted his head and let the kick sail by. Trunks failed to realize he'd missed until his back was turned. He received a kick to the spine for his troubles, but was able to hold position and come back fighting.
Trunks continued to press the attack, but Seventeen continued to dodge, parry, and block his every move. Sweat began to stand out on his brow as he continued. Seventeen merely let him come, his inner sigh nearly becoming an outward one. He swung suddenly, a blow which Trunks barely countered, as intent as he was on breaking Seventeen's face. He raised an arm and turned partially away from the strike, an effective block. Trunks failed to block the knee the drove into his chin.
The blow sent Trunks reeling through midair and coming into an unsteady float several feet back. Seventeen only hung in the air above him, face an impassive mask. If this was supposed to be training, then this was going to be a bigger waste of time than permanent suspended animation. Lost in his thoughts, Seventeen failed to hear what Trunks called to him across the chasm.
"Are you ready for a little more?" Trunks called. Seventeen gave the barest sigh in response. "Suit yourself." Trunks responded.
The air around Trunks erupted in a blazing white corona. Not gold, but this was different. One small alarm began in a part of Seventeen's brain (software?) that he didn't understand. But he knew what the alarm meant: rising power level. Strange. Seventeen decided he should at least be ready, more out of respect than any sense of alarm.
Just as he set his guard, Trunks charged. The angry ball of lavender closed the gap, punch pulled back ready to strike. Seventeen waited until the strike was a hair's breadth from connecting, and raised one elbow to block, hand brushing the side of his head as the block moved into place with perfect timing.
But his arm felt nothing. The lavender form turned hazy and passed through him. Seventeen did not have time to register confusion as another form came from behind. Trunk's foot connected with Seventeen's head and sent the black-haired Android reeling.
Seventeen came to his senses some feet from where he started, first dazed, and then annoyed. Now it was his turn to look up at Trunks, floating above him with arms crossed.
"Hey kid," Seventeen called up, "you seem to forget how this usually goes!" Seventeen winked out. In two split-second jumps, he appeared behind Trunks. Trunks was ready, however, and met Seventeen with a block and counter combo of his own. Seventeen struck back, and the volley continued, both fighters blurring in strike and counterstrike. Trunks's aura burned brighter as he matched Seventeen strike for strike. Trunks finally landed a punch, fist crossing the Android's jaw. Seventeen countered again, his own fist hitting home and sending Trunks back.
Trunks charged back, and the fight continued. The sun had moved past the zenith before Trunks called time. Seventeen adjusted his tattered shirt and returned to the ground. Trunks dropped to the ground as well, landing on shaky feet. He kept his balance, barely. He reached up one hand to wipe blood from his nose and mouth, then winced and used his other arm to hold his shoulder instead. Seventeen almost winced in sympathy. Almost.
"Hey," Seventeen called out as he brushed the dust off his jeans, "we done for the day or are you going to keep wrecking my wardrobe? You didn't exactly give us time to pack before you sent me and my sis camping." Trunks looked up, ashen and dazed, but still managed to smile back.
"You and your clothes can take a break. For now." With that he collapsed in a heap, propping himself up on elbow only with much effort. Breathing heavily, he looked to Seventeen to be lost in thought.
Trunks knew that going all out was the only way to be ready for what was next. Still, he was leery about taking a beating when he was alone with what was his worst enemy. Luckily he could sense Robbie, far on the other side of the world, but just a psychic wave away. He could live with that. He knew he could summon the world's most powerful Super Saiya-jin if needed. With that he finished his collapse to the dirt. For today, he was spent. Tomorrow would be a different story.
Seventeen knew he was breathing, and quickly lost interest. "Hey, when you're ready to, you know, start walking again, I'll be in the cabin." Trunks would be hungry soon, but for now Seventeen was content to let the sleeping pup lie.
As he walked back to the cabin down a shaded forest path, he let the silence of the woods sink in. He forgot about fighting, forgot about that stupid lab, and forgot to wonder why the kid didn't do his color-changing trick. It was bullshit.
He sighed, his breath making barely a whisper in the quiet. He had a half-mile walk back to the cabin, and he intended to walk every inch. There was no reason to hurry. The only thing that mattered sure as hell wasn't here.
The only thing that mattered was currently only a slow blinking in the back of his mind. Though it was truly only Eighteen's transponder signal, his mind made it into so much more. He imagined it as a wave in his mind. It swelled when she was happy (or destroying something) and shrank when she was sad, tired, or bored. Real or not, it was what tethered her to him. He walked through the silent woods with that signal blinking calmly in his mind.
For the last day or so, it had dipped down to a slow fade. Not unusual, but worrying. She'd had more bad days lately. He understood why, but he wasn't a fan of letting this go on. And once again he was stuck with no way out. She was in trouble and he couldn't help.
A stray kick sent a boulder flying over the horizon. His strong sense of hearing caught the faint crunch of rock on a mountain somewhere. Fuck it.
He began walking back to the cabin again when emptiness hit him like a thunderclap. Eighteen's signal was gone. Her main power level dropped from strong to 0.
Seventeen strained his senses toward her with all his might, desperately searching. His fists unclenched when he found it; her heart beat lightly in sleep. He heard the most beautiful sound in all the universe from half a planet away.
But that heartbeat was growing fainter as she was moving somewhere underground. He swore to himself that if that kid was taking her somewhere far away, he would find a way to kill him. But for now, he could only read his options and realize everything sucked.
He would keep watching. He would wait for the other kid to wake up. He would find out what was going on and kill them if anything went wrong.
Seventeen kept walking.
The dome of shining light winked out. Decreasing at a set rate, the dome receded into the dark LA streets. The slashing bolts ceased to split the night. The crackling roar which rattled even the tempered glass windows of the tower subsided. Streetlights winked back on, revealing the gray-armored ZeDi troops scrambling through the streets below. They moved with frenzied purpose.
Malcolm randomly thought that their armor should be black. They were Zero Division, and from a mathematical perspective the number for black was zero, ergo it should be black. Malcolm quickly realized he had been sitting too long.
Snapping back to reality, he saw his assistants moving around him in a blur, checking readouts, shouting out readings and results, and speaking in data. Any other time it would be the scene he lived to see, but his command chair was like a cage, holding him down.
Out of the blur stepped a young attendant, black hair and blue eyes set on a face with a chiseled jaw given to him by nature. The face also sported chubby cheeks given to him by 5 years of doctoral study. He needed to hit the gym, as fit as he was. His uniform was a functional blend of grey ZeDi fatigues and a grey lab coat given to the science corps. New to both the military and the science corps, William P Reese was Malcolm's chief lab manager, on loan from a little known office of the US Marines.
"By all indications, the test was a smashing success, sir." He said enthusiastically. "As soon as that cyborg shows up, it's game over, man."
"Android." Malcolm said absently.
"Ah yes, Android. Of course." Dr. Reese shifted from foot to foot uneasily. "By the way, sir, I managed to contact your colleague over at SETI. She is waiting for your call…and added she we would be quite interested in a visit if you have the time."
Malcolm, in fact, knew he did not have the time but would have longed to go under normal circumstances. But for now, the only alternative was a good-old video conference.
"I'll take the call in the conference room. Ensure I'm not disturbed." Dr. Reese nodded in understanding and waded back into the command room fray. Malcolm stepped calmly from his command chair and walked over to the conference room.
The room was cool, gray, and dim in marked contrast to the frenzy of the command center. Malcom could feel himself relax reflexively, if only slightly. The room was fairly small and contained only the expected conference tables, chairs, sticker-covered laptop and really big screen.
Malcolm opened the laptop and made his call. The screen lit with blinking lights and the chiming tones of a video call. He waited with anticipation and hoped she would pick up.
This call would be important, and it might well be his last.