This will be a long multi-chapter fic.
DBZ in space - most characters will feature but in particular: Piccolo, Eighteen, Gohan, Goku (as Kakarot), Chi chi, Krillin, Seventeen, Vegeta, Bulma, Goten, Trunks, Yamcha, Tien, Dende, Nail
Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters
Title and fic inspired by Lorde: Yellow Flicker Beat
Space is on Fire
Chapter One
That Yellow Green Flicker Beat
Eighteen tipped her head back, short blonde hair falling onto the fabric headrest, and exhaled loudly. She knew she didn't have to make that much noise to be heard, but it was rather satisfying.
"How much longer?"
Their speed had been constant for over three hours as they headed through the slow zone, so slowly, between the four planets that braced each corner of it. Everytime they took this route, there they were, as if planetary orbits meant nothing in this part of the galaxy. She cracked her knuckles unnecessarily, in another bid to create sound, as if doing so alone would accelerate the ship.
Piccolo looked up from above a microscope in their small retro-fit lab tucked into a corner of the bridge. He found his task tedious and time consuming, but he detested Eighteen's impatience more. Deep, rumbling tones were slightly more clipped than necessary.
"If you're bored, feel free to take over"
She pursed her lips and brushed imaginary dust from her uniform. Turning her icy gaze towards him, still reclining, she blew him a kiss. She was well aware that she was pushing the limits of her authority.
He stared, contemptuously, before lowering his head back to the scope. Since they were a field unit, the two of them, they had to perform a number of their own forensic tests in order to avoid frequent visits to one of the Force's satellite stations. Something which, they both agreed, was worth the inconvenience. It was much more preferable and efficient to track their suspects en route, Piccolo hadn't quite realised he'd be doing all the testing when he authorised the fit. A Namekian touch, she had said. He dipped the digital plate into the computer's receiver, and the system quickly scanned the DNA sequences and flagged up a match. It shocked exactly zero people on the small ship.
The computer's simulated adrogynous voice began to detail the information verbally.
DNA profile identified
Match: 100%
Name: Kakarot, Son of Bardock
Race: Saiyan
Crimes: 38 charges of planetary genocide, 34 charges of collusion, 32 charges -
"Yes Alira, we know. Stop read out"
Eighteen huffed out the words and stood, sighing, again dusting and straightening her burgundy uniform. She raised a delicate light eyebrow to her partner and Piccolo smirked, they had been hunting this individual for some time. For several years in fact, although they had both been pulled off assignment pending investigation last month. Thankfully, nothing came of it. Though Eighteen suspected Piccolo had something to do with that positive result. She walked towards the lab, small black heels clicking on the ceramic like floor. Three trees, organically grown, protruded from the floor at pleasant intervals and she brushed her hand against one as she travelled. A White-blue sheen covered almost every panel and tile on the ship, the gentle brown of the trunks and vivid red and yellow leaves helped her remember she was from Earth, though technically not entirely human.
Piccolo stood abruptly, pushing a button on the desk which sealed the equipment safely. His uniform was a dark violet colour, and it looked effortlessly creaseless as he moved. She internally frowned at it, the forever reminder that he was her superior, and not just by one rank. He didn't parade around shoving it in her face, Piccolo was all class and by nature not at all interested in what he called a borderline pathological human obsession with authority. She wondered if she would ever be promoted again, she was increasingly combative, headstrong and volatile. Piccolo was all these things as well, but had a much better way of getting away with it.
She crossed her arms, short sleeves bearing more of her pale skin as she did.
"Well then, where is he headed?"
"Alira, using the radiation trace found at the previous site and most recent site that we detected DNA of suspect: Kakarot, Son of Bardock, calculate the most likely projected heading of the suspect's ship. Take into account that it would not have decreased speed for any restricted zones"
Piccolo's voice was exact as he spoke, ever careful to say exactly what he means, and mean exactly what he says. Her brother, Seventeen, had repeated that well worn cliche to her once when describing the Namek, whom she was sure her brother secretly worshipped as a war hero. Back when Frieza had come to Earth, after decimating the Namekian race, looking for those dragon balls which had eluded him there. Piccolo and some other humans had formed an alliance of sorts, and together they strategically blew him to Hell. It was probably more complicated than that, but she couldn't be bothered remembering the details she had learned at the Flight Academy. She was a lot younger when all that happened, and had no memory from before she was engineered into a Cyborg. The technical term for what she was, although most humans tended to call her an Android. Piccolo had said, years ago, that humans are afraid of what they don't understand, and are probably more comfortable thinking of her as something entirely artificial. Something that can't happen to them. He had seen a flicker of anger in her eyes when she was first assigned to his ship, and their Commander at the time had called her 'The Android Pilot'.
Alira, the computer, displayed a visual map and route highlighted in red, out of the three displayed, was the most likely route. Eighteen hummed her approval, and announced her instructions.
"Alira, lay in course, increase speed to light speed one once we are clear of the restricted zone"
A beep acknowledged the received instruction.
Piccolo stretched out his lower spine, with hands on hips, almost flaunting his height before walking past her and to the flight panel, they had learned through experience that being nowhere near the manual controls did not help when chasing Saiyans. The Namek sat down at the helm, fitting comfortably in the large chair that Eighteen liked to pretend was a throne sometimes. She considered her words for a moment, but couldn't help but voice what was most likely on both their minds anyway.
"Do you think Gohan is with him?"
Piccolo didn't move, or shift in any perceptible way, or even stop moving his hands over the panel. But Eighteen felt his tension in her reinforced bones. His voice was cold but professional.
"There is no evidence to suggest either way"
She rolled her pale blue eyes. Ironically, out of the two of them, he was far more concerned with logic than she ever was. She sat down beside him, in another large but comfortable chair.
"True. But let's assume that he is. Then we'll be prepared, because if he is-"
Piccolo turned sharply towards her, swivelling the chair so they were facing. He leaned forward, his violet uniform pulling taut as he put elbows on knees to lower his height. She was still poised, slightly leaning forward and simply raised an eyebrow, a soundless chastisement of his blatant attempt to intimidate her. He exhaled and chuckled under his breath. There was a reason he chose this inexperienced young Lieutenant for this assignment, despite having next to no actual combat experience.
"Get to the point Eighteen"
If she was being honest, she enjoyed the proximity. Not because she had any sort of romantic feeling for the Namek, but because this is where she held the power. He did not do so well in these small human interactions, especially when his imposing size did absolutely nothing to impede them. She smiled, knowingly, before continuing.
"If he is, then he is far more intelligent than most of his brood. Intelligent enough to mask their ship's trail at the very least"
Piccolo absorbed the information, and as soon as he did, he felt a little embarrassed. He knew Kakarot's son perhaps better than any other Officer, he should have assumed he was on board. He dropped his dark eyes, and Eighteen knew that it was because he was trying not to expose the trouble in them. A pang of sympathy struck in her chest but she refrained from letting it show, Piccolo did not want comforting. He most likely wanted revenge, appropriately professional or not. He was still a Warrior Namek, and it was in his blood.
"Can you determine if he is?"
She nodded, again smiling and it lit up her face.
"I think so-"
She was cut off, and a steady low beep emitted from the ship's systems. Alira's voice echoed around them.
"Incoming transmission from Satellite Station 14"
The image of the messenger displayed immediately, not needing permission to request a dialogue, and Piccolo irritatedly turned his head and sat back abruptly. They had been inches apart, and no doubt that scene would be the first discussion at hand. He was right.
"Am I interrupting something Commander?"
Piccolo subconsciously pulled the left sleeve of his uniform jacket to cover his wrist. The form fitting pale violet shirt underneath made him feel exposed, and very human, but the jacket always felt a touch too small. Krillin's round face smiled kindly at Piccolo's response.
"Yes, why? Are you jealous?"
Eighteen laughed out loud, before smacking her lips shut in mock submission.
"That's, are you jealous Sir"
The Namek crossed his arms and smirked. They had been friends, he supposed, for a long time, though not at first by any means. Piccolo's determination to take over the Earth had been subdued when they met, courtesy of a human family finding him in the forest when he was a hatchling, but his surly temper and blood thirst was ever present. His adoptive human parents being killed by Frieza had given them a common purpose, and when Krillin founded the United Galaxy Police Force, with the help of Vegeta, a defected Saiyan who wanted Frieza dead possibly more than anyone else did, Piccolo had joined. Reluctantly, but the pros did outweigh the ridiculous uniform. Vegeta's partner, Bulma, a Scientist and Engineer had convinced Vegeta to help them manipulate Saiyan technology, together with Namekian. When Piccolo had discovered Vegeta had come by this technology by killing his people, that had been the end of their acquaintance. Vegeta had nearly killed Piccolo when the Namek had confronted him, and would have but for what he called 'sneaky green bean magic'.
Krillin continued with his discourse, not failing to smile sweetly at the young Lt. Eighteen of whom he thought very highly.
"I noticed you changed course, do you have new information?"
"Yes - Kakarot's ship, we're trailing it now"
Krillin nodded his head, fully aware that his monitoring the Alira would be pissing Piccolo off extensively.
"Keep me updated, and be careful"
The transmission terminated. Eighteen bit her lip slightly in thought. She found Krillin interesting, cute in an odd way, funny and diplomatic. She wondered idly if it was the power, a man in charge and all that, then she looked at Piccolo and dismissed it. She could crush his little human skull with one hand most likely. That can't be it. Piccolo's voice caught her attention once again.
"We're clear of the restricted zone"
You mean the slow zone.
Her sarcasm was usually well received by the stoic Namekian, but she held back on that one, she liked to pick her moments.
The Alira's engines hummed loudly for a few seconds as they entered light speed. It gave Piccolo a headache travelling this fast, there was probably a reason why most Namekians stayed on the ground. Eighteen loved it, it was exhilarating, she liked to live fast and this was faster than most people ever get to go.
"We'll catch up in...an hour give or take, Kakarot's ship isn't as fast as ours. Are we still going ahead with the boarding plan?"
Piccolo nodded and spared her a sideways glance. This was a risky mission, and he almost regretted selecting a young inexperienced Lieutenant, one whom he actually respected and admired, to accompany him. The chances of them surviving were slim, he didn't doubt her strength and fighting skill, she was exceptionally powerful and due to her lack of tangible Chi, very well suited to subterfuge. She had confidence, resilience and intelligence. But so many people with bright futures have died so young. She chose this, she's not a helpless child, he reminded himself.
Thoughts of Gohan being on board the ship made his skin crawl. He wasn't easily frightened, and it was even more difficult to contemplate that he felt 'spooked' but that was one word for it. The half Saiyan had a different drive than his father, Kakarot was all mindless destruction and thirst for power, Gohan had different goals. Goals so obscure Piccolo had yet to actually work out what they were exactly. He stood up and spoke to Eighteen as he left the bridge of the ship, his voice more confident than he felt.
"Maintain course, if you see anything out of the ordinary, cloak the ship. I'll be next door"
The bridge wasn't exceptionally big, and he was quickly through the automated doors and into the small hallway branching off into different rooms. The same bright white blue tiles lined everything and he frowned at the assault on his senses. The third door on the left opened quickly as he approached, the door sensing his biological footprint, and he entered his personal quarters. The room was just large enough to be comfortable and the walls were a dark teal colour, lined with pieces of art he had acquired as unwanted gifts from a young enamoured human he had met some time ago. He had a bed, though he rarely used it, the sheets were a dark red, and most of the furniture in the room was black. It was as different to the rest of the ship as possible, and, 'so not Namekian', as Eighteen had put it. Well, I was raised a demon.
He spared a thought to the strange couple that had adopted him, and their deeply disturbing pagan practices. He hadn't thought it strange at the time, but they had believed him to be sent straight from Hell as payment for their services to the dark arts. He missed them, as much as he could with his limited emotional capacity.
"Alira, display wanted criminal profile: Gohan, Son of Kakarot"
An image of the half Saiyan appeared, the large screen bringing the still image to life in a way Piccolo hadn't particularly wanted. Are you sure this isn't what you wanted?
He shook the thought from his mind and stared at the image. Large brown eyes held almost nothing, a calculated sort of evil perhaps, and they weren't warm like mahogany, they were cool, frozen but organic. In person they were haunted, and he remembered them just inches from his face, the sweet and bitter alcohol on his breath. The warm hand, so strong and rough, wrapping around his throat. He blinked the memory from his mind and concentrated once again on the image. A scar lined the left side of his face, crossing his eye and brow. His dark brunette hair was wild, and it had a touch of human in it. Saiyan armour had been modified into a black and silver type design. It looked a little gimmicky to Piccolo, but then he regarded his own uniform and thought at least they had that in common.
"Display statistics"
Numbers appeared, along with designations. Power level, speed, it all exceeded his own. Eighteen might be faster, and she sure as hell could land a bullet. Glancing at the gun attached to the wall, he holstered the weapon he usually left behind, they didn't kill Saiyans, but they did pierce skin and they had impact. Vegeta had some input in their design, if he remembered correctly. The name made him scowl.
"Display ship schematics: Warship Bardock"
Kakarot's inherited ship displayed, and Piccolo had almost forgotten how large it was. It was several decades old, and as a result, they had a shot of getting on board unseen through the several decommissioned fighter ship ports. All Saiyan ships were heavily armed and manned, they were likely to come across patrols, officers, civilians even. He spared a thought for the Namekians and humans enslaved upon the ship, with any luck they would turn a blind eye to himself and Eighteen. An Earth expression came to his mind, fingers crossed.
Eighteen's smooth voice came over the intercom.
"They've slowed down. We're at full stop and cloaked"
He sighed. Nothing was ever simple.
"Bring the weapons online but keep them on standby"
He closed the screen and absently put one hand to the gun to make sure it was still on his belt.
Entering the bridge, he could see the warship on the main viewscreen. Eighteen was tapping away, her mind whirring at an inhuman speed to make sure they had all avenues covered. She regarded the ship. Have they seen us?
Out of her periphery she saw Piccolo stood, arms crossed in his usual fashion. He had strapped on an armoured vest on his way in, instead of his uniform jacket, and his broad shoulders looked almost at odds with his narrow waist. The pale violet shirt was now taut with the straps, and she noticed the heavy duty silver gun glinting on the hip of his dark violet cargo trousers.
"Get your vest on"
She had originally thought they were useless, bullets did not pose any threat to herself or Nameks on Earth. The Saiyans, however, were experts in weapon design, and had quickly developed weapons to assist in Namekian capture especially. So that weaker Saiyans could control the captured populations, freeing up the stronger for war mongering. She pulled her vest from the wall attachment and strapped it on. It was more necessary for Piccolo than herself, but it made them feel connected, like a team. They were a team.
Combat policing unit 4, to be exact.
She already had her weapon, tucked tightly into its holster.
The viewscreen revealed another ship coming into view. Not as large as the Warship Bardock but substantial, and significantly newer. Piccolo closed his jade eyes and his antennae tingled in apprehension. It had 'Gohan' written all over it. It was probably called 'The Gohan'. Egotistic twat.
Eighteen's voice was cool, and calm.
"We need to get on that ship before he does"
Piccolo's face was impassive, but inside there brewed a storm. She was, of course, right.
Until next time. W.