The Trepidation of the Spheres A Dragonball Z fanfic by Stella Quetzacotl First created: Jul 31, 2002 Last modified: Sep 02, 2002 ~~~~~Legal Stuff~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a work of fiction written for entertainment purposes only. All DBZ characters are the property of Akira Toriyama and FUNimation. All other characters are the property of the author. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~Text Conventions~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [This is a character thought] /This is a voice within a character's head/ *This is emphasized text* Chapter 4: Start the Commotion "...And then he knocked me out," Goku finished, huffing a little as his marathon of a story came to an end. "Then, I guess, you four found me. Thank you, by the way." "No thanks necessary," Zakuro answered gravely from his seat on the floor. He and his friends were seated in a rough semicircle facing Goku, who was sitting on his bed. Their tails, which Goku could not seem to stop staring at, were unlooped from their waists to lie casually across their thighs or their wrists or the floor. "We're under orders not to directly confront Vegeta, so we must find other means of messing with him." "Not too hard," Raima put in. "He's always cranky." Goku grinned, then looked around. "What is this place?" he asked abruptly. "That doctor guy - he called it Kudamono? Is this the Saiyan homeworld?" The four's smiles faded. "The Saiyan homeworld was called Vegeta," Cereza said, her voice taking on a strange, rhythmic accent. "The same as the prince - the whole royal line. Almost twenty years ago, it was destroyed along with most of the Saiyan race. They say that no chunk larger than a clenched fist exists of what was once Planet Vegeta." She made a fist to demonstrate. "The Saiyans had several colony worlds, but over the years they, too, have been destroyed, one by one. Colony Kudamono is an orbital space station built during the last days of the Saiyans, and as far as we know the only Saiyan stronghold left." Goku opened his mouth to apologize, but Cereza cut him off with a tight shake of the head. "Kudamono orbits the moon Umaa, home to the Umaajians. Zakuro's father, Lord Tomate, traveled to Umaa over thirty years ago to scout the moon in preparation for its conquest. When he arrived, he was captured by an Umaajian woman named Lady Azul. The Umaajians are a peaceful people, so Lady Azul didn't kill him - just kept him in custody, and talked to him, and got to know him, as he got to know her. Eventually they fell in love. Lord Tomate was released, and made his way back to Vegeta, in hopes that he could dissuade the king - who was also his brother - from razing Umaa. He succeeded only in obtaining a delay, provided he oversee work on an orbital colony King Vegeta wanted to build. He finagled things so that the colony would be built in orbit around Umaa, the better to be near his love." Cereza's head came up. "That was the beginning of Colony Kudamono." "Lady Azul and Lord Tomate kept their relationship secret from both of their peoples, but it was inevitable that they would be discovered one day. That day came when Lord Tomate made his yearly trip back to Planet Vegeta, to report to the king - only to be accused of sodomy and driven from the palace." Cereza's voice grew hard. "Had he not fled, they would have executed him. A day later, Planet Vegeta was destroyed. Lord Tomate returned to Kudamono, and lived out the rest of his days on the just-finished Colony Kudamono, with Lady Azul." She smiled. "Lady Azul and Lord Tomate had been trying to have a child for years, ever since the homeworld was destroyed, but Saiyan genes and Umaajian genes don't mix easily. They persevered, though, with the help of Umaajian medical technology, and thirteen years ago they had a son. Zakuro." Goku looked at Zakuro. [Half-Saiyan,] he thought wonderingly. [Like Gohan.] Zakuro's floppy, deep-gray hair, his pointed ears, his luxuriously-furred tail and his slight build - all were characteristics that his friends did not share. The smaller boy met Goku's eyes steadily, and now Goku could detect a hint of burgundy in their depths. His muscles were tensed and his face set as if waiting for Goku to ridicule him. He was waiting in vain. Goku turned his attention back to Cereza. "So you and the rest of the Saiyans have lived here all this time?" Cereza nodded. "At the sufferance of the Umaajians. It helps that Lady Azul is our strongest backer - she is well respected, lunarside." She shook her head. "Lord Tomate is dead now - he was killed by Nappa three years after Zakuro was born, for not revealing Kudamono's location. Zakuro is his heir, the future ruler of Colony Kudamono. He is accepted by the Umaajians, for he shares their blood. He is the bridge between our people and theirs." Zakuro shook his head. "My mother is the real bridge," he said. "I'm just a symbol." "You're not just a symbol," Suboten answered, with the air of an argument long belabored. He stood, stretched. "Listen, I'm sure our guest has a lot of questions, but we have to get going. We have training, remember?" Raima made a face. "Yeah, that's right. Hey, is it my imagination, or has Master Okura been crankier than usual lately?" "Quit complaining," Cereza grinned, getting to her feet and offering the longer-haired girl a hand up. "At least all the extra laps she gives us are good for us." Raima accepted Cereza's aid. "By the time she's done with the laps, I'm so far gone I don't get anything out of the rest of training." "Speak for yourself," Zakuro put in. "She pulls me out early and I'm still puffing like the Umaajian bagpipes. Speaking of which, Goku," he added, "if any Umaajian - or anyone else for that matter - offers to play the bagpipes for you, run away as fast as you can." "Got it," Goku said weakly. "You can pretty much go wherever you want, but try to keep a low profile," the younger boy instructed as his companions began to file out the door. "Most Kudamonians, Umaajians and Saiyans too, are suspicious of strangers." He grinned, suddenly looking much younger than the thirteen years Cereza had attributed him. "If you get lost, there are kiosks here and there. Query them for the location of the medical center. And have fun." "Thanks," Goku replied, but Zakuro was already out the door. It wasn't as if Goku had never seen so many people in one place before. He'd competed in the World's Strongest Martial Arts Tournament, after all. Come to think of it, the main boulevard of Colony Kudamono wasn't half so crowded as the stadium at his last Tournament. It's just that there was so many different *kinds* of people. Light people, dark people, fat people, skinny people, humanoid people, animallike people, all congregating and trafficking and Kami-only-knows what else. The species most heavily represented was most undoubtedly Saiyan, but even they were outnumbered by the sum total of the other races in evidence. There were tall, slender people with long arms and legs, bushes of light hair crowning their heads and fanning the base of their spines. The adults had short straight horns like ice picks jutting from between their eyes; the children Goku could see had no such appendages. There were a few feline people who moved with an arrogant grace that afforded them the right-of-way among most of the people; only the Saiyans refused to defer to them, treating them instead with a sort of abrasive respect. Sensing their power, Goku felt the back of his neck prickle - any one of those catlike beings could have fought Raditz to a standstill. Every once in a while there were people resembling bull-horned lizards, with long tails and heavily armored skin. Everywhere they went, ripples of fear and distrust followed in their wake. In like spirit Goku retreated under a shop's awning rather than be noticed by one of them. "Scare you, he does?" came a creaky voice from behind him. Goku jumped, shook himself mentally, and turned. Near the shop's doorway sat a wizened old alien - [although who can tell age with aliens,] Goku thought with good humor - almost hidden behind a low table piled high with unfamiliar plant life. "Ah - no. Not really." The alien snorted. She was chalky green in color, with big pointy ears and slightly bulgy eyes, barely four feet tall and wearing a dark brown robe threaded with blue. "Lie to me, you mustn't. See clearly, I do." She sighed. "Why those creatures come here, I know not. Welcome here, they certainly are not, when such terrible things one of their number does." She sighed noisily, forestalling any questions on Goku's part. "Time to take a break, it is. Most thirsty, I am." She shifted and abruptly dropped below the foliage-laden table - Goku realized she'd been sitting on a stool. Now down to three feet if that, the wrinkly alien shuffled off and was quickly lost in the crowd. Goku watched her go, shook his head and walked on. Obviously he had a lot to learn about this place. Presently Goku came across a street musician playing what looked like a cross between a dulcimer and a tambourine, with metal disks strung loosely around the sides. The alien who played it, one of the maned, single-horned beings whose kind was the second most represented on the colony, used the instrument for both melody and percussion as he sang a sprightly tune about love in the springtime. Or at least that was the impression Goku got from it. The musician finished his song, looked up expectantly, and Goku and the rest of the audience clapped and made appreciative noises as the horned alien was flanked by two Saiyans - one larger even than Nappa with an impressive bush of facial hair, holding a twisty pipe that looked as if it would break in his hand; the other small, missing an eye, and so scrawny that it was impossible to tell his gender, carrying two cylindrical drums and foam-tipped sticks. The scrawny kid set the drums down, squatted behind them, and tapped them with a stick experimentally. They made a resonant toom-toom noise, which seemed to please the musical trio. They launched into another number, one of those complex syncopated- rhythm numbers that, on any planet, seemed to be written solely to provide the extremely good musician with the opportunity to show off. The crowd began to clap in time, shouting encouragement and catcalls. Goku grinned - he knew this kind of crowd. Humans and aliens weren't so different after all. Caught up in the music, Goku let the walls of his mind crumble. The combined power level of the crowd hit Goku between the eyes like a sledgehammer, making him stagger. Reeling, he pushed his way out of the steadily-growing mass of beings, gasping for breath and sweating bullets. [What - *hit* me?] he wondered, finding solid wall under his fingers. Gratefully he followed it into an alleyway. [Is *everyone* in space that strong?] Oh, they weren't as strong as, say, Vegeta. Not even Raditz. But with very few exceptions, every single person in that crowd had been substantially stronger than he was. Goku pressed his forehead to the wall. [Am I really that weak?] It was the question he'd wanted to ask himself since he'd met Raditz. [All that training I've undergone, everything I've ever been through - why wasn't it enough?] He slumped to his knees. [What do they know that I don't? What are they doing that I'm not?] He shivered, then looked up. For all his brain was on overload, his senses were still working fine. Now he sensed two power levels, roughly half again as big as his own, glowing with evil intent and approaching quickly. From up the alley, two small figures - one Saiyan, one reptilian - were approaching him with the kind of grim smiles that Red Ribbon soldiers had always worn before, as a boy, he'd kicked their guns out of their hands. Goku stood and edged back. [No guns this time. This is *not* good.] A high-voiced yell heralded the appearance of another young alien, falling seemingly from nowhere to land perfectly between Goku and his would-be attackers. The two young muggers got over their surprise fairly quickly, both rushing the newcomer with savage cries, but she - it was definitely a she - ducked the first one's swinging fist and swept the other one's legs out from under him. Before he could recover she tackled him, got in three good punches before the other one threw himself onto her. Goku's savior flung this one off of her using a long, whiplike tail, flinging him into a wall, then finished off the first one with three more solid hits. As the reptile-alien groaned and rolled onto his stomach, the girl-alien flung herself at the young Saiyan punk and made short work of him too. As Goku watched, dumbstruck and gaping, the girl-alien reached down to sling the reptile punk over one shoulder. "Don't take offense," she said cheerfully, doing the same for the other unconscious antagonist. "It's not as if I don't think you could have dealt with it yourself. Just that these guys and I have a history. They have enough people with grudges against them that they don't need to add to it." With a start Goku realized that she was a member of the bull-horned, lizard-like race that had incurred so much fear in the open street. Now the young alien seemed harmless enough - for someone who could probably mop the floor with Goku. Goku shook his head, banishing those thoughts. "Well, thanks for the assist. I guess." "No problem." She gathered herself, leaped, and was gone. Goku sank back against the wall. [How do these people *get* so strong?] [Same way you do,] he answered himself. [They train. Obviously they train a *lot*.] He sighed. [I wonder what it takes to get yourself a teacher around here.] Zakuro stretched gratefully, glad to be away from the subterranean training hall where he and his friends received daily instruction. "That was actually fun," he admitted to his three companions, rubbing his forehead. "But right now I'd sell my tail for a glass of water." "Careful someone doesn't hear you," Cereza joked. "Some of the merchants around here would take you at your word." They laughed. "I'd like to see anyone around here try to take our Zakuro's tail," Raima declared, grinning hugely and not entirely mirthfully. "I'd give 'em a tail, all right." Zakuro gave her a mock glower. "Thanks, but I can protect my own tail." "Raima just wants an excuse," Suboten told the smaller boy. "She just wants to fight something." "I'm sure Master Okura would be happy to oblige, Raima," Cereza added innocently, jerking a thumb back at the low door that led to their training-master's domain. Raima grimaced. "I already get as much of *her* as I can handle. I wanna fight something that squeaks when I hit it." "Try a rubber ducky." Zakuro lifted his head. "Say, I think I see our offworld guest." The other three followed his eyes and were soon able to pick out the larger Saiyan, making his way through the crowd towards the four. "You'd never know he was a Saiyan, to look at him," Cereza said thoughtfully, raising a hand in greeting. Suboten shot her a look. "How do you mean?" "Well, look at him - the way he moves through the crowd. Most male Saiyans his age would probably just barrel on through, but this Son Goku character just sort of..." She broke off to search for the right word. "Swims," Zakuro supplied. "He swims through the mob, displacing not a drop." "That's it." She smiled as Goku reached them. "How do you like Kudamono so far?" Goku was panting. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he answered, "It's an eye-opener, that's for sure. I never knew there were - " he paused, then finished - "so many kinds of people in the universe." "You haven't seen anything yet," Raima told him. "Someday you'll have to visit the Galactic Bazaar in the Trinity Nebula. Every race in the galaxy winds up there sooner or later." Goku nodded, seeming distracted by that particular concept. "Listen," he said abruptly, "can I ask you guys something?" "Shoot," answered Zakuro amiably. "Well... you four seem pretty strong. For that matter, so does everyone else here - " his bitter tone implied 'all except me, that is' - "but you... well, you get a lot of good training, don't you?" Dry glances flurried about the four young Saiyans. "I'll say we do," Zakuro drawled. "Why? You looking for someone to take you on?" Goku opened his mouth to reply, then paused to gather his thoughts. When he did speak, he spoke slowly and carefully. "I have a wife and son back on Earth. I need to get back to them - but I also need to be able to protect them. To do that I have to get a lot stronger." His voice dropped. "Raditz showed me that much." Cereza searched his face, but Goku was closed off, his eyes refusing to make contact with her own. "Our teacher," she began softly, "is an Elite Saiyan, named Okura. She was a training master for the Royal Guard before she was... retired. She doesn't teach anymore, except for us, but she only does it because of Zakuro being who he is. I think she'll take you on, though, if Zakuro asks her - " Now Goku met her eyes. "Thanks," he said clearly, forcing a smile, "but I kinda have to ask her myself." He shrugged. "It's the Earth way of doing things. I gotta do this right." Okura, former training master of the Royal Guard of the Saiyan Empire, now master only to four teenagers, slumped in a high-backed chair feeling sorry for herself. It was an unusual pastime for an Elite such as herself. But frankly, Okura didn't give a hoot. She'd borne a lot of pain and heartache in her day, but now Planet Vegeta was destroyed, she was one hundred two years old and washed up. She had every right to sulk. Her only joy (although she'd never admit *that* under slow torture) came when she was training the young Lord Zakuro and his followers. Cereza, Raima, and Suboten were model citizens, untiring, strong, able to persevere under the harshest conditions Okura could throw at them. As for Lord Zakuro himself, well, being only half- Saiyan he could hardly be expected to handle as much as a fullblood. Still, relatively speaking he pushed himself harder and longer than his friends. A true warrior, that one. And even when he was banished to the sidelines, his shouted encouragement kept his fullblood friends going when they would have given up otherwise. A true leader. Zakuro gave an old lady hope. A timid knock sounded on the door of her single-floor apartment, sitting squashed with thirty-nine other apartments sitting on top of it. Mentally rousing herself, Okura called, "It's unlocked. But if you're a salesperson or a burglar, best do yourself a favor and go take a walk out an airlock." The door opened. "It's just us, Master Okura," came a familiar voice. Okura stood, keeping a grin from her features. "Lord Zakuro! Ready for more already? I must be losing my touch." "Not a chance." Zakuro and his three followers filed through the narrow doorway, followed by someone who had to duck his head to get through. "We're here for - ah, moral support I guess. For this guy - Son Goku is his name." "Hello," said the stranger, raising a hand. Now that he wasn't silhouetted by the bright light from outside anymore, Okura could see more of his features. Zakuro's new friend looked to be a Saiyan a scant few years out of adolescence, wearing a black bodysuit but no armor. He also - Okura realized with a start - had no tail. "I'll let ya in for Lord Zakuro's sake," Okura told the stranger tartly, "but I don't go trustin' just anybody." She let her eyes linger on his waist, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating the lack of a tail. "You a Saiyan, boyo? I ain't seen you around. Where'd your tail get off to?" Zakuro winced at his teacher's lack of manners, but Goku seemed to take it in stride. "I'm a Saiyan from - offworld," he answered politely. "I lost my tail a long time ago." The older woman snorted, mollified. "Good enough. Bloody business, though, if you ask me. Losing a tail." When Goku didn't reply, she added, "You're awfully scrawny for a Saiyan your age." "Well, that's what I'm here for," Goku answered cheerfully. "Zakuro says you train him and his friends, and from what I can sense of him, you're doing a pretty good job." Goku observed with delight Okura's stone countenance beginning to soften. [Flattery is a very useful thing.] "He also says you don't have any other students besides him and his friends. So -" "You want I should take you on," Okura interrupted. "If you don't mind," Goku answered meekly. For a moment Okura held his eyes. [Is he makin' fun of me?] she thought. [He's a third-classer, and a weakling at that. People like him don't talk to people like me.] Unconsciously her eyes went to Zakuro, then Cereza. They both knew what she was thinking. They both knew of the ostracism she faced as the only elite Saiyan - besides Zakuro and Cereza - in a society largely made up of second- and third-classers. They both knew the pain this dealt her. Zakuro answered her silent query with a smile, Cereza with a nod. Okura sighed. "From the looks of you, I'm gonna have to start from the ground up," she complained, theatrically enough that it was plain she wasn't really complaining. Goku grinned hugely, and with a certain amount of relief. Okura beckoned her newest disciple deeper into her apartment. "Follow me into the basement, Son Goku. Your first lesson starts now." Gohan couldn't sleep. Normally, by this time of night the boy would be dead to the world, curled up on his animal-skin bed - skins courtesy of animals that he'd hunted himself. Krillin would have been nearby, sleeping on a much more futon-shaped pile of skins, occasionally tossing around in his sleep. And Piccolo - well, he wouldn't have been in evidence in their home cave, but he would have been around. He would have been there if Gohan needed him. It was this loss of security, more than anything else, that kept Gohan up that night. After Captain Stella's vessel, the GSS SpaceCadet, had gotten underway, Gohan had been busy exploring the ship, meeting the crew, and talking with his recently-regained mother. Later, Piccolo had taken him to a sealed-off room the Captain had shown *him* and put him through an extra-tough hour of training. So all in all, Gohan was pretty worn out. He just... couldn't sleep. The young half-Saiyan sighed, kicked his blanket away, and tumbled out of his too-soft bed. "I need a drink of water," he muttered aloud, just to have an excuse ready if someone got mad at him for being up this late. Wearily he plodded out of his room and down the hallway. It took a bit of walking before Gohan was able to find any sign of life in the dark, still spaceship - still, that is, except a persistent low thrum that kept the ship in a state of perpetual vibration - and he was about to give up and find his way back to his room when a burst of laughter from ahead made him start. Turning another corner, Gohan found his oasis - golden light spilling from an open doorway, accompanied by more laughter. Gohan quickened his pace, then slowed again with the shyness of his "before Piccolo" years before peeking around the doorjamb. Sitting around a table that had cans, packages of some sort of snack food, and what looked like playing cards scattered across its face were a gaggle of people including Captain Stella, a feline humanoid with stone-blue hair, and three humanoids with unexpressive faces and antennae, differing from each other only in height and hair color. All were laughing over something or other, loud enough to completely overpower the gentle thrum from the ship. The Captain's ankle-length yellow hair was unbound, cascading down to pool quiveringly on the floor behind her, and the purple cloak Gohan had so admired was nowhere in sight, leaving only her pink sleeveless shirt, blue breeches, and bare feet. The feline was clad only in a black shirt not much more substantial than a sports bra, and burgundy gi-style pants rolled up to mid-calf. The three male aliens were all clad the same way, blue breeches like the ones Captain Stella wore and black sleeveless shirts. "So there I am," Captain Stella was saying, "wrapping myself in my hair for lack of anything else, and I hear the doorknob turning. Of course I was pretty well panicked out of my head by then. So I - " She stopped. "Oh, hello there." Gohan gulped. "I - I didn't mean to interrupt," he said quickly, coming out from behind the doorjamb. "I was just - " The Captain waved his words away. "Nonsense, nonsense. Everyone, this is Gohan, one of the guys we picked up this morning. He's a hybrid, I believe, from Earth." Gohan nodded confirmation. "I remember him," the feline said. "He was sparring with that Namekian this evening - making a pretty good accounting of himself, too." She grinned a greeting, and Gohan flushed at the unexpected praise. "This is Arissa Torara, our security chief," Stella said with the briskness of long practice. "She's a member of the Ctarl-Ctarl race from Mriss, a colony world of the Ctarl-Ctarl Empire. And these three," she continued, gesturing the three antennaed humanoids, "are First Mate Shiel Gav - " the light-brown-haired one raised a hand - "Navigation Technician Gisei Remm - " the dark-brown-haired one nodded - "and Electrical Engineer Ben Aric." The red-haired one waved. "They're Teluvians, from the planet Telener." She pronounced it with the emphasis on the last syllable, tel-en-AIR. "Hi," Gohan said politely, bowing. "Nice to meet you," Shiel said, smiling now. A Teluvian smile is a strange thing - it doesn't perceivably affect any of the face besides the mouth. "You know, part of our job is to provide a connection between every civilization we can reach, but none of us have ever been to your solar system before. Why don't you tell us some about Earth?" “M-me?” "Lady Chichi and Lady Bulma have been telling us about the planet's culture and technology," Gisei added, "but we could use a fresh perspective such as yours." "As if we understood a word they said anyway," Ben muttered, earning a surreptious clout from Arissa. Gohan sighed. [Well, this has to be better than just laying in bed,] he thought. [And definitely not as scary as when Piccolo was teaching me to fly.] With that thought fixed firmly in his head, Gohan smiled bravely. "Sure." The crew of the SpaceCadet kept Gohan talking for a couple of solid hours, at the end of which the boy found himself completely unable to keep his eyes open. Despite his best efforts - and the best efforts of the crew to wring him dry of information - Gohan began to nod off in Captain Stella’s lap. “That’s enough for now,” the Captain finally decreed. “We’ve kept you - and ourselves - up much too late.” She looked up. “Will someone take him back to his room? I’ll clean up here.” “I’ll do it,” Gisei volunteered. Stella handed the five-year- old over and busied herself with cleaning up as her subordinate stepped briskly into the hall, carrying the dozing half-Saiyan as one would hold a baby ready to be burped. Gohan would have protested such treatment if he’d been aware enough, but fortunately for all involved he was completely passed out. As Gisei walked down the hall with Gohan in his arms, he was unaware of a small camera set catty-corner to the ceiling above him. As he walked past, the camera tracked his motion, then zoomed in on him - more specifically, on the dozing Gohan. It seemed especially interested in the boy’s brown-furred tail, waving slowly like a pendulum. Next chapter... While the SpaceCadet crew and the Z-fighters begin to get to know one another, Goku and his newfound allies continue their training under Okura. None are aware of the danger that looms closer every day...