Chapter Three

For the most part, the surrounding territory made Pan's trek more difficult. It stretched to the horizon like the uneven waves of disturbed water, strangled with bristle-plants she could only by convention call flowers and punctuated with stone (her mind spat out the word "moorland;" thanks again, dad), and it offered no impediment to the sheets of dagger-wind tearing low through the sky and, subsequently, right through her. The thin layer of ice collecting on every rock and patch of dirt threatened to throw her, the bristle-plants scratched her exposed calves, and the even blue sky that swallowed it all darkened by the moment, making flying impractical. It turned out there was an advantage to the relentless flatness of the place, though, and that was that Pan could see the makeshift camp from some ways off.

It was a ring of tents, two small and two large, all an insulated fleshy material Pan hoped was plastic. She could feel inhabitants. A pair of warriors somewhere in the skill-ballpark of her old friends Tien and Yamcha knelt by a metal cylinder she guessed was a furnace, trying to get it to run. Inside one of the tents lingered a much more imposing presence; probably their leader. Were they friendly? Were they really only as powerful as they felt, or were they suppressing reserves like Pan was? It was best to assume they were, but…

"No choice but to risk it," She muttered. With no phone and not a single landmark to point her back towards home, these warriors might be her only chance at getting her bearings.

Pan pulled out her phone as she approached, hands forward in a gesture she hoped would look nonthreatening without being too submissive.

"Excuse me," She said.

The warrior stooping by the machine was so startled he fell directly on his butt. The other didn't lose as much composure, but he was just as startled.

And what a strange duo they were! Thick tendrils grew from their heads in place of hair, each one prehensile like a catfish whisker, and red; but they were red all over. Their open mouths bore unusually long and sharp incisors. They were dressed even worse for this kind of weather than Pan was, since the both of them were sporting what looked like strategically-placed strips of black leather held together with fish nets. They had more weapons than clothes. Each was outfitted with a scouter, an array of spears and blades strapped to various limbs, and a backpack-like rig attached to an arm cannon strapped to their wrist.

"I don't mean any harm," Pan said. "I'm lost. I was hoping you could give me directions."

The one still standing leaned to the one who'd fallen and tapped his scouter. "Are you getting the numbers I'm getting?"

The one on his butt confirmed with his scouter. "That's a Saiyan, Ash."

"Can't be, Smulder," The one called Ash replied. "The Saiyans is all dead."

"She's giving me a reading of zero. And didn't you see where she came from? There's nothing that way but the Cold burial grounds." Smulder paused, letting the silence build up for emphasis. "She's a ghost."

"I'm standing right here," Pan said. "And I'm not a ghost. I just can't get anybody on my phone."

They reflected on that.

"She doesn't know she's dead," Smulder said. "Do you think she went up with Planet Vegeta and never realized what happened?"

"If she's buried with them, she'd have to have died before that, back when they were still allies proper. Damn it, why isn't Gelata back yet? I bet you anything she'd know how to get rid of a ghost."

The leader's tent snapped open. Out stepped a catfish-man a head taller than Ash and Smulder and a whole lot rougher. A scar led from his chin to an eyepatch over his left eye, and that wasn't the only chunk of meat he was missing. His ki billowed like a backdraft of flame, and Pan instinctively fell into a disguised fighting stance; he would be trouble even if he wasn't hiding anything.

"Officer Gelata," he said, "Is reconnoitering on my orders and does not need to be distracted by your clownish superstitions. You look at that girl and you see a ghost? Bah! Do you know what I see?" He narrowed his good eye. "A trespasser, and a suspicious one at that, skulking around the palace grounds."

"I'm not skulking, either! I'm just lost! You can't tell me nobody ever gets lost around here, wherever here is!" Pan waved her hands. "I'm not even carrying any weapons."

The leader turned his attention from his men to her, but the glare remained just as withering. "Don't think I'm as stupid as they are. The scouters are broken. As a Saiyan, you are a weapon. Ash, Smulder, kill her… but beware. It will take both of you."

"But…"

"Now."

"Yes, Captain Ember," Smulder said.

Kill me? Did I hear that right? Who are these guys?

Smulder fired up his cannon and pulled the trigger.

Pan released her energy- still not all of it, not until she had a better gauge on this captain of theirs- but enough to throw Smulder once again from his feet and knock his shot into the sky. Ash lined up and fired; Pan batted the beam away and, using Instant Transmission, yanked the cannon from his arm and broke it in half.

That's where she made her first mistake.

Normally it would have been a sound move. Ash was wide open, and the quicker she could put him out of the fight, the more attention she had to pay to the true threat here: Captain Ember. So she punched Ash. Unfortunately, she punched him with her bee-stung hand, and while it had gone numb, as soon as she thrust it into his abdomen pain exploded from her fingertips to her elbow. She cried out and doubled over, and that gave Ash time to pull his spear.

She took one blow, harder than she expected. Ash aimed another. He blurred. The tip of his spear came into focus. Pan remembered a move her mother used in the ring, and while it was a risk… kicks usually were in a street fight… it was one she had to take. She jumped, kneeing Ash exactly where she'd punched him, and then in the chin. By the time she landed, he was slamming hard onto his back, unconscious.

Captain Ember furiously tapped his gauntlet and yelled into it. "I don't care where you are, officer, you get your chitinous ass down here now! We have a situation!"

"He has a situation?" Pan said, as Smulder lunged at her from behind, trying to choke her with his spear. She managed to backhand him- ouch! The skin still ached- but it was enough to squeeze her other arm under the spear, and the next time he threw himself into her, she used his own momentum to hurl him over her shoulder.

She straightened just in time to see Captain Ember taking aim at her, and not with his gun. She could feel energy building in his hands.

No time to dodge; she could only hope to overpower him. She drew her own hands back, concentrating as much as she could as quickly as she could, and fired.

"Firedrake Bite!"

"Kamehameha!"

The brilliant red of his attack hit her Kamehameha in a shower of sparks. The impact shook Pan to her core; the stone beneath her heels crumbled to gravel.

She wasn't sure if she'd win. Ember's red energy inched closer to her. She gritted her teeth and pushed back, though, and he began to lose a little ground. She released more of her reserves and he lost a lot of ground, and the Firedrake attack dispersed as the Kamehameha plowed through it, and through the white-hot glare she could see the exact moment Ember realized he'd lost.

So Pan also saw Captain Ember grab Smulder by his spear-harness and pull him into the attack's path, using him as a shield. The Kamehameha struck Smulder head-on. Ember tossed his smoky body aside like an old coat.

"What are you doing?" Pan yelled. "That was a dirty move!"

"Saiyans do take their art seriously," Captain Ember said. "And on top of that, you're one of those alphas that run even more aggressive than average. That's why my men couldn't even take you down two-to-one. The thing is, I'm not here to play-fight or have a pissing contest with you, kid. I've got one job here. I keep Asphodel City peaceful at any cost. If the price is you, that's too damn bad for you."

Captain Ember crossed his hands at the wrist and bowed his head.

Now what's he up to? Pan thought.

Waiting to find out was her second mistake.

Just as Pan began to suspect the answer was 'stalling for time until that officer he'd called arrived,' she did notice a change. That sluggy energy, the one she'd felt instantly upon arriving, the one she'd followed out of the catacombs… it was oozing closer to her. Not just from one direction, but from all directions. That's how it felt, too: oozing. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end.

Captain Ember flicked his wrists. "Red Wave Paralysis!"

Nothing happened. Pan looked left and right, waiting to see if something would. Had Ember's attack failed? Her fingers began to tingle. It wasn't painful, but the kind of vibration that came with a mild electrical current. It spread from her fingers, uncomfortable but still technically painless, speeding to a rattle, bringing a cloud of dizziness with it when it reached her head.

She didn't fall.

She just couldn't move. At all. Not so much as an inch.

"What did you just do?" ...was what Pan wanted to say, but she couldn't speak, either.

Captain Ember dropped his hands to his sides. He looked drained and glassy-eyed, almost as if he had a hangover. But he also looked triumphant.

Don't panic, Pan thought. There has to be a way out of this.

A scene came to Pan, a memory of one of the last times she'd seen her Grandpa. They'd been fighting one of the invading dragons, Oceanus, by the seaside, and to Pan she'd looked invincible. Nothing, not ki, not fists, appeared to even touch her. But it turned out the key word had been 'appeared.' She wasn't invincible at all, Grandpa explained; every time they struck at her, she'd spin so fast the force would deflect the attack. It was by watching the water displaced by Oceanus's spinning that he'd discovered her secret, enabling Pan to vault her and strike her unprotected head.

Do what Grandpa did. Look for a weak link in the attack. If this Red Wave Paralysis can be done, it can be undone.

Captain Ember approached her. He stopped to pick up Smulder's spear.

Pan tried to ignore him creeping towards her. Obviously that's some kind of local environmental life-force, and he knows how to manipulate it. That's not some mysterious technique. It's the same idea behind a Spirit Bomb. I've seen Grandpa use a Spirit Bomb.

It must have taken something out of Ember to use it, too. He staggered as he walked. Sweat beaded on his face.

She also tried to ignore he'd gotten close enough for her to see that. Can I use a Spirit Bomb? Grandpa always raised is hands. I can't move mine. Ember didn't raise his, though, so maybe if I just feel for it the way he did…

Ember raised the spear.

Got it!

That was her final mistake.

Pan felt that energy closing in again, but this time, it was responding to her summons. Eagerly, too; as if there was a mind behind it that had been waiting just for her. Overhead, the indigo of the sky drew fast to violet, and the color stood out bolder than night, brilliant as silk. It wanted to make contact with her, and she wanted to make contact with it, too. It was like hearing the distant call of an old friend-

And then hell.

That energy, so welcoming before, snapped around her with the force of a bear trap and the malice of gnashing teeth. Screaming filled her head and she didn't know if it was hers or Ember's or the life-force's or some soup of all three, but it was an explosion behind her eyes. She was being stretched to bits from the inside-out, and it made the bee-sting she thought was so awful feel like a pinprick.

This time Pan did hit the ground, and she didn't get back up.

At least Captain Ember hit it with her, and neither did he.

Vaguely, Pan heard footsteps landing beside her, and then a voice, this one coherent, a woman shouting, "Captain! Captain!"

But that was too much to make sense of right now. It made her head ache even more. With no other recourse and not caring what came next as long as it meant an end to this feeling, Pan dug for unconsciousness and found it.

ooo

Pan expected she'd wake up in a dungeon. She'd been picturing a grimy room with stone walls and water dripping from a single window, like in a video game, or a sterile metal box with slabs for beds, like the Tuffle prison grandpa Goku had been thrown in on M-2. She had not planned on waking up in a hole that looked very much like the scraped-out belly of a giant snake, nor had she counted on being shackled with something that looked and felt like its phlegm, but that's where she was: lashed between two of the burnished brown "ribs" veining the waxy muscle "walls" with viscous ropes of what could only be described as snot. It was alive and pliant and resisted her attempts to break it.

She wasn't alone in that tunnel.

She'd also expected Ember or someone like him would be around to gloat, but the thing that trundled down the hall was not the same kind of creature. It stood taller than any of Ember's men. Spurs and exposed muscle knotted its bulky frame. Its head was like a dragon's put on backwards, extending over its shoulders and down its back with a flat snout in front pitted with what could have been eyes or nostrils, Pan didn't know. She didn't know if it was a guard, a guard dog, or mobile security camera. She only knew she didn't want it seeing her awake. She pretended she still slept as it passed her.

It paused, looked her over (she could feel its gaze), and continued on its way. A long and lashing tail wove down the dark tunnel behind it like a thing with its own mind.

No matter what it was, its presence meant powering up was out of the question. Pan couldn't release her reserves without bringing the bony pseudo-dragon down on her head. With that off the table, how was she going to escape? If her phone was working, she could call for help, but it wasn't; nor could she reach it with her hands tied; and that was assuming Ember hadn't figured out what it was and confiscated it, which he most certainly had. He was evil, not completely empty-headed.

Wait a minute.

Pan would have kicked herself if she weren't glued to the wall. How empty-headed was she? She didn't have a phone, but that didn't leave her without contacts.

Closing her eyes to what little light the tunnel possessed, she concentrated as hard as she could.

Bonpara, can you hear me?

Silence filled the hole with such oppressive weight she wished for that dripping window to break up the monotony.

Just when she thought it wouldn't work, she heard three simultaneous screams. Oh. There they were.

Pan! Bonpara thought. You're alive!

For now, anyway, she thought back.

All three Para Brothers burst into audible tears. You vanished into thin air! We jumped in the ship and scoured the area. When we couldn't find you, we thought that bug had dissolved you. Who would have thought the Colds would send a bee as an assassin?

I'm not assassinated, and I haven't seen any Colds, Pan thought. At least, not any live ones. I woke up in some tomb of theirs, but I got out. Now I've been thrown into a dungeon by the local police and I still don't know why, or which is worse. The tomb was in the middle of moorland. The dungeon is a man-made tunnel somewhere beneath a place I heard them call Asphodel City. I was put here by humanoid men with catfish whiskers for hair and I'm guarded by something that looks like a dragon's skeleton. Does your computer have any matches for either the city or the life-forms?

I'll ask, Bonpara thought.

The next thing Pan heard was the computer's simulated feminine voice running through her head.

"The Colds' ancestral crypt is indeed located on the borders of the City-State Asphodel, the capital and center of government on the planet Ketchyn. Ketchyn is best known for its harsh environment and its living atmosphere, the Prismasphere. Life-forms identified as Sutova guardsmen and a third-tier Reizomorph, most likely of the Arcosian variety."

Sutova? Pan thought. Reizomorph?

The catfish guys are the Sutova and the dragon-skeleton is the Reizomorph. At least that's the pictures the computer's showing us. Maybe I can send them to you, Bonpara thought.

From whatever ether telepathy traveled through, Pan received a mental image of a digital display. It showed her a generic figure of a man who looked and dressed like Ember, labeled SUTOVA. There were four figures labeled REIZOMORPH: the first was a slivery humanoid alien, the second the doppelgänger of the dragon patrolling Pan's cell, the third a giant with horns and a tail. The fourth looked just like the boy carved on that gravestone. So the horns and tail hadn't been symbolic.

There are different kinds, Pan thought.

No, different forms. Computer says they change shape to conserve power. Those little first-tier forms require the least energy to run, Bonpara read. But they're also the weakest, so if they're cornered, they morph into one of the others.

So my guard's only in his third form and would still have one stronger to go if I managed to overpower him. That's one more option off the table, Pan thought. What's this about a living atmosphere?

The Prismasphere. Bonpara thought. Ketchyn is a moon anchored to a geologically dead planet and the Prismasphere is a blanket of pure energy that wraps around it and keeps everything on it alive.

So that's the gummy slug energy I feel every time I step outside. Pan had trouble matching that hostile planetary life force that had tricked and almost killed her to the computer's benevolent description. How far is Ketchyn from Earth?

Bonpara hesitated. You're in the East Quadrant. The southernmost edge of it, too.

Seriously? I've never been outside the North Quadrant before. It's kind of cool.

Are you still roped to the wall and guarded by a dragon?

Yes.

Then what's so cool about it? Bonpara yelled so loud Pan instinctively wanted to cover her ears, but even if she'd been able to move her hands, it wouldn't have done any good, since his voice was coming from inside her head. You're a week away from Earth, even for a ship with warp drive. Computer says Sutova and Reizomorphs eat their captives, and they both think you taste better if they torture you first. Sutova prefer to flay you alive while the Reizomorphs bat you around like a cat with a mouse and rip a chunk off here and there…

You are NOT HELPING! Pan head-yelled back.

My point is that if we blasted off right now, we might get there in time to pick up some leftovers.

Pan reflected on that. Her chances were dwindling by the second. She closed her eyes again as her Reizomorph guard stalked past a second time, again pausing to look her over. Maybe he was wondering what sauce to marinade her in. Maybe he was still deciding when he returned to his rounds. She didn't want to be leftovers.

I'll see if I can come to you, Pan thought. All three of you power up as much as you can.

On the bridge of the ship?

Now that I have some idea what direction you're in, if you make your ki signatures strong enough, I might be able to sense you from here, and then I could teleport to you with Instant Transmission.

Pan waited for Bonpara to tell the others, then reached out to them.

The closest sources of energy glowed like dozens of little lamps switching on; the guard patrolling the tunnels up ahead, more guards milling around chambers or standing at attention outside them, people above, and above even them, the life-force she now knew was the Prismasphere. She stretched beyond it and thought she felt something familiar…

Pan jumped.

She blipped out of the guts-tunnel and into the Teleportation Zone. So far so good. That was as far as good lasted, though. The Prismasphere crashed into her whole body like a balled-up fist and knocked her right back out of it. She hit a wall full-force. Unfortunately, it was the far wall of the tunnel she'd started in, and it left its grainy imprint on the side of her face. Fortunately, the wall-snot hadn't teleported with her. It flailed for her but didn't have the reach to ensnare her again.

I don't see you, Bonpara said. So that didn't work.

Apparently I can't teleport through the Prismasphere, Pan thought. But it worked well enough. I got out of those shackles. She heard steps. I think the guard's coming back, though, and unless I can knock him out in one blow, he'll transform and call for backup.

What are you going to do? Bonpara asked.

What's it sound like? I'm going to run!

So she ran. Pan hoped she'd see stairs or at least a laundry chute, but he further she went down the tunnel, the more featureless she found it. There were tiny lights in the walls and the occasional turn or room, but nothing that looked like a way up. The monotony was so unbroken she wondered how the guards found their way around the place. Yet again she had to navigate by ki.

She felt another she recognized. Captain Ember's.

He may have tried to kill her, but deep down, Pan was relieved he'd survived her blind attack and hoped the others had, too. He still felt like he was in bad shape, though. His pulse was faint as a whisper.

Hugging the wall, Pan crept in his direction.

Down a dark passage, at the corner of a dead end, Pan found the room where Ember hid. She'd thought he'd still be unconscious, so she was shocked to see he was not only sitting upright, he was – through some effort, if his pained face was anything to go by- holding a conversation with a Reizomorph woman.

She didn't look like the guard Pan fled. She had curved horns like an ox, a more defined face, and wore a waxy blue cuirass and grieves that clung to her indigo skin so tightly it was difficult to tell where the armor ended and the woman began.

Something far more interesting lay behind her: a staircase, the first Pan had seen, and what she suspected might well be the only way out of the tunnels.

"It is, of course, heartening to see you up and about, Captain," the woman said. Pan knew that voice. It was the last thing she heard before she collapsed. That must be Officer Gelata. "But I question the wisdom of taking my report in your present condition. You've suffered at least a class-two backlash, and without proper rest, your ability to retain information may be compromised…"

"You follow your orders and let me sort myself out, Officer."

"As you request. I've analyzed the curse found on the prisoner's hand. I'm afraid identifying it is beyond me. The method of delivery was undoubtedly a Red Sentry, but the curse itself is a single-use one-way matter projector I've never seen before. If I had to guess, I'd say it was Indigo. I must admit, it's a clever way to smuggle objects… or lifeforms… through the Prismasphere's defenses."

"So there's no chance she did that to herself," Ember said.

"None whatsoever. Judging by its half-life, I doubt she arrived in the area any sooner than we did."

"Where did she arrive from, dammit?" Ember asked.

"Hard to say, sir. There were so few survivors after Frieza blew up Planet Vegeta, they're understandably reticent. It's impossible to keep track of them or know if there's anywhere in particular they congregate. Who knows where she was when that trap was triggered." Gelata rubbed her hands together. The chitin plates clicked. "How fortunate that it did! A live Saiyan. I could study her long-term. There's only so much to be gleaned from her ancestors' mangled corpses."

"No, you can't. We don't need the public knowing she's down here. I told you how Ash and Smulder reacted to her, and those were my men; what do you think the fools outside the castle gates will make of her? I wanted to destroy her and be done with it, but if she was brought here, it might be more prudent to keep her alive and wait to see who comes looking for her."

"I completely understand," Gelata said. "May I remove the cursed skin for in-depth analysis? I could destroy it when I'm finished…"

"No. Do what it takes to find out what she knows, but no samples, no experiments, and don't taste anything."

Pan decided it was time to leave. Being held prisoner and used as bait sounded marginally better than being tortured and cooked for dinner, but given the choice, she would rather not do either. The dead end was still a dead end, though, and Gelata would be strolling out that door any minute. With no time to think of anything more elaborate, Pan jumped and clung to the ceiling.

It was like plunging into black fog. The lights were low to the floor and didn't touch the tunnel's ceiling. That turned out to be beneficial, as just as Gelata opened the door to leave, the Reizomorph guard rushed to it, so close to Pan she could feel the wind from his elongated head passing inches beneath her. Soon Ember yelled,

"What do you mean, she's escaped?"

"I'm not exaggerating when I say I'd only passed her a minute previous and she'd still been unconscious," The guard said. "The next thing I knew she disappeared from my scouter and…"

Ember interrupted, "She can't have gotten that far, then!" and ran out the door. Gelata followed him, and the guard reluctantly brought up the rear.

Pan waited to see if they or anyone else would come back this way before dropping to the floor. Ember had left the door to that room he'd been inside wide-open.

I found some stairs, Pan thought. I'm going to have to break our telepathic link. I'll need all my concentration to get out of here without getting caught. I'll contact you again when I'm somewhere safe. Or at least safer. The way things are going, I may have to settle for safer.

Bonpara replied. We're on our way to Ketchyn. We'll be waiting to hear from you.

One more thing. Tell grandma… Pan didn't know how to say this, because she didn't know what to say. She couldn't leave her grandmother wondering what happened to her for a minimum of a week… Chi-Chi might not be able to take another heartbreak like grandpa… but what could she tell her that wouldn't end up worrying her more? She finally decided on, tell grandma I meant what I said. I'm coming back.

The inside of Pan's head snapped like a rubber band. Silence followed.

She didn't like feeling so alone in this place.

She dashed into the room, towards the stairs. She'd have time to worry about that when she escaped, but she had to escape first.