The imperial command ship was dying.
Warning lights flashed across its ruined command deck, bathing the wreckage in alternating shades of red and white. Smoke poured from ruptured conduits. A severed weapons console sparked against the floor, while somewhere deeper in the vessel, metal groaned beneath the strain of a failing reactor.
The masked warrior stood in the middle of it all.
He was breathing heavily.
Not from exhaustion.
From restraint.
Through the narrow eye slits of his mask, he watched the surviving imperial ships reposition beyond the shattered hull. Their cannons were turning toward him, their targeting systems searching for a stable energy signature. Several smaller craft had already begun evacuating personnel from the damaged vessel, but the larger ships were holding formation.
They had orders to contain the intruder.
They did not understand what they were containing.
The warrior lowered his head. His broad shoulders rose and fell as he drew a slow breath, his fingers opening and closing at his sides. The green glow around his body had been faint when he first struck the command ship. Now it pulsed like a living thing, spreading over his armor and crawling across the fractured metal beneath his feet.
A soldier still alive behind an overturned console looked up.
"Wh-what are you?"
The warrior did not answer.
He had heard that question before.
Usually, the people asking it had been holding instruments. Sometimes they had been holding weapons. Once, a long time ago, a man in a white coat had asked it while looking through a reinforced window, as if the warrior were an animal in a cage.
He remembered the man's expression.
Curiosity.
Not fear.
That had been worse.
The warrior's hands tightened.
The deck beneath his boots began to tremble.
At first, it was only a faint vibration. Then the bolts securing the ruined console began to rattle, and the loose fragments of metal around him rose a few centimeters into the air. The green aura thickened, spreading outward in a slow, uneven wave.
The surviving soldier gasped.
His chest tightened.
He tried to stand, but his legs would not obey him. A sudden dizziness swept through his body, followed by nausea so intense that he dropped to his knees. His vision blurred. The air seemed to have grown heavier, harder to breathe, while the pressure bearing down on his shoulders increased with every passing second.
Across the command deck, another soldier began coughing violently.
"What is happening?" someone shouted over the alarms.
No one answered.
The warrior's aura was no longer behaving like ordinary ki.
It had an ugly, unstable quality, a toxic green radiance that seemed to contaminate everything it touched. The metal beneath his feet discolored. Cracks spread across the floor. Loose debris shuddered, then shot away from him as though struck by an invisible explosion.
The weaker soldiers suffered first.
Those with insufficient ki to resist the pressure collapsed against the walls, clutching their heads and chests. Some vomited. Others could barely remain conscious. Even the stronger troops felt the crushing weight of the energy, their bodies instinctively struggling against a force that seemed to press upon their very existence.
It was not merely the amount of power.
It was the feeling of standing too close to something their bodies were never meant to endure.
The masked warrior slowly raised his head.
The green light reflected across his armor.
"Move," he growled.
The surviving soldiers stared at him.
He took one step forward.
The entire command deck buckled.
"MOVE!"
His voice erupted through the wreckage.
The remaining soldiers scrambled toward the emergency exits. Some were too weak to run properly. Others dragged their comrades behind them, abandoning their weapons as they fled.
The warrior watched them go without pursuing them.
He had no interest in killing people who could no longer fight.
His attention belonged to the ships outside.
The first imperial vessel opened fire.
A volley of concentrated energy blasts streaked through space, converging on the damaged command ship. The pilot had clearly decided that destroying the entire vessel was preferable to allowing the intruder another chance to escape.
The masked warrior turned toward the incoming fire.
His aura flared.
The first blast struck his shoulder.
It vanished into the green radiance.
The next struck his chest, followed by three more that detonated around his body in brilliant flashes. The command deck shook beneath the explosions, but when the light faded, the warrior was still standing.
He looked down at his armor.
A small scorch mark darkened its surface.
For several seconds, he stared at it.
Then his head tilted.
A low growl escaped his throat.
The green aura surged.
Muscles tightened beneath his armor. His shoulders broadened, his arms thickening as his frame grew slightly larger. The fabric around his waist strained, and the floor beneath his feet fractured into a web of jagged lines.
He was not becoming enormous.
Not yet.
But the change was unmistakable.
Something within him was pushing against the boundaries he had spent years learning to respect.
The mask remained firmly in place, its dark surface hiding his expression.
The warrior clenched his fists.
He could feel the power rising.
He could feel the familiar pull toward that terrifying place where thought became instinct, restraint became an unbearable burden, and every living thing around him seemed to shrink beneath the weight of his existence.
He hated that place.
He feared what happened when he reached it.
And yet, whenever the empire cornered him, whenever the soldiers returned with their weapons and their orders, the same terrible strength stirred within him.
He had learned to survive by keeping it buried.
Today, however, he had come too far to retreat.
The warrior crouched.
The ruined command ship's deck sank beneath him.
Then he launched himself into space.
The acceleration was so violent that the remaining hull split apart behind him. Metal fragments scattered in every direction as the masked Saiyan shot toward the imperial formation, trailing a blazing green wake.
"CONTACT INBOUND!" an officer screamed over the fleet's communications.
"All ships, concentrate fire!"
The surrounding vessels unleashed everything they had.
Hundreds of energy blasts converged on the approaching figure, turning the space between the ships into a storm of explosions. The warrior flew directly through it.
He did not dodge every attack.
He did not need to.
Some blasts struck his body and burst apart. Others were swallowed by his aura. The few that managed to push him off course only seemed to make him angrier.
He smashed through the first ship's forward armor, emerging from its rear hull in a spray of molten debris.
The vessel split open behind him.
He was already moving toward the second.
Its captain ordered an emergency barrier deployment, but the warrior struck before the system could fully activate. His fist connected with the ship's central engine housing, and the resulting shock wave tore through its internal structure.
The vessel's engines flared white.
Then the entire ship erupted.
The masked Saiyan twisted through the explosion, his aura spreading across the debris field like poisonous fire.
A third ship attempted to retreat.
He caught it.
His fingers closed around the vessel's armored prow, and for a moment, the contrast between them was almost absurd: a single warrior suspended in space, holding a massive imperial warship as though it were a troublesome animal.
The ship's cannons fired at point-blank range.
The blasts illuminated his mask.
He barely moved.
Then he pulled.
The warship's hull shrieked as the metal tore apart. Its forward section twisted away from the engines, and the entire vessel broke into two enormous pieces.
The warrior released it and shot toward the next target.
The remaining captains began to panic.
"He's destroying us one by one!"
"Fall back! Fall back!"
"We can't establish a lock on him!"
"Then use the area suppression array!"
A command officer slammed his hand against the control panel.
The surviving ships separated, forming a broad circle. Their undersides opened, revealing arrays of black emitters designed to interfere with energy manipulation. Silver light gathered between the vessels, creating a lattice across the surrounding space.
The warrior noticed the change.
He slowed.
For the first time since the battle began, he did not immediately attack.
The silver lattice expanded around him.
His aura flickered.
The pressure did not disappear, but the green radiance around his body became unstable, breaking into irregular waves. He looked toward the nearest emitter, his eyes narrowing behind the mask.
The imperial officers watched their readings climb.
"Containment field active!"
"Energy output is fluctuating!"
"Increase the array's intensity!"
The lattice tightened.
The warrior's body shuddered.
A low, furious sound rumbled through his chest.
He remembered restraints.
He remembered laboratories.
He remembered people speaking about control as though it were something they had a right to take from him.
His aura surged again.
The silver lattice distorted.
One emitter exploded.
Then another.
The warrior roared.
Green light swallowed the space around him, and the suppression array collapsed in a chain reaction. The remaining imperial ships were hurled backward by the expanding pressure. Several lost their engines. One spun uncontrollably, its hull folding inward as the force crushed its outer armor.
The masked Saiyan shot through the center of the formation.
His shoulder struck one ship.
His fist shattered another's bridge.
A third attempted to escape, only for him to catch it with a sweeping kick that sent it tumbling into the path of a fourth.
The resulting explosion lit the entire battlefield.
For several seconds, the warrior continued attacking, moving with a brutal simplicity that left the imperial soldiers no time to organize a defense. He targeted weapons, engines, and command decks, destroying the fleet's ability to fight rather than wasting time pursuing every escaping soldier.
Then he stopped.
The last operational vessel was fleeing toward deep space.
The masked warrior hovered amid the wreckage, his chest rising and falling. His aura continued to pulse, but the green radiance was beginning to contract toward his body.
He watched the fleeing ship.
He could catch it.
He could destroy it.
He could make certain no one who had witnessed his strength survived to report it.
His fingers curled.
Then slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his hands.
"Go," he muttered.
The ship disappeared into the darkness.
He remained among the drifting wreckage, staring toward Namek.
The planet was still distant, its green surface barely visible against the stars.
He had used far more power than he intended.
And somewhere inside him, the thing he had spent years suppressing was awake enough to remember the taste of battle.
He turned toward the planet and accelerated.
The mask stayed in place.
Whatever the empire believed it understood about the strange warrior in the South Galaxy, it had seen only a fraction of the truth.
And the warrior intended to keep it that way.
Pov switch,
Namek.
Namek's afternoon was quiet.
The strange fleet surrounding the planet remained far beyond the hills, its black ships continuing to probe the barrier, but from the settlement, the disturbance was little more than a faint shimmer along the distant horizon.
The surviving Namekians had returned to their duties under Elder Oru's instructions. Some were reinforcing the sanctuary's hidden entrances, while others carried supplies into the deeper chambers beneath the settlement.
For the moment, there was nothing Taru could do about the fleet without risking exactly what Faye had warned him against.
So he had taken a seat beneath the broad shade of an ancient tree.
Faye had joined him with a bowl of fruit, two cups of water, and the expression of someone who had decided that if the universe insisted on being terrible, he was at least entitled to a comfortable place from which to complain about it.
The tree's thick branches spread over the grass, casting a cool shadow across the ground. A gentle breeze moved through the leaves. Beyond them, the green river wound through the landscape, its surface catching fragments of sunlight.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
Taru leaned back against the trunk, one arm resting behind his head. His eyes were closed, but he was not asleep. His awareness remained extended across the surrounding landscape, listening for changes in the barrier and monitoring the movements of the imperial ships.
Faye sat beside him with his legs crossed, chewing a piece of fruit.
He glanced at Taru.
Then at the sky.
Then back at Taru.
Finally, he sighed dramatically.
"Well, this is lovely."
Taru opened one eye.
"What is?"
"The peaceful afternoon. The pleasant breeze. The charming scenery. The fact that we're sitting beneath a tree on an alien planet while an intergalactic tyrant prepares to murder everyone we've met."
Taru closed his eye again.
"You forgot the fruit."
"The fruit is excellent. The impending doom is less impressive."
"You're welcome to complain to Frieza."
"I would, but I suspect his customer service department is dreadful."
Taru chuckled.
Faye leaned back against the tree beside him, letting his shoulders relax. In public, he often tried to present himself as a capable Kai, particularly around the Namekians. He wanted them to see someone who could help rather than another person who needed rescuing.
Here, alone with Taru, that careful composure gradually slipped away.
His mouth became quicker. His expressions grew more exaggerated. And the mischievous, theatrical personality he displayed around Shin and the others in their refuge returned in full.
He nudged Taru's leg with his foot.
"Are you actually resting, or are you pretending to rest while planning something catastrophically stupid?"
"Both."
"I knew it."
Taru smiled faintly.
Faye popped another piece of fruit into his mouth.
"Let me guess. You're thinking about going to Frieza's palace, challenging him to a fight, defeating his entire army, rescuing the Kais, stealing the Dragon Balls, and returning here before dinner."
"I wasn't going to steal the Dragon Balls."
"Oh, forgive me. A respectable guest would obviously ask permission first."
Taru laughed under his breath.
"You're in a mood."
"I'm in a perfectly reasonable mood. You're the one who keeps wandering into situations that make my life significantly more complicated."
"You followed me."
"And look how well that worked out for me. I was thrown into a barrier by a giant pink monster."
"Dodoria wasn't that giant."
Faye turned toward him with an offended gasp.
"That is the part you object to?"
Taru finally laughed properly.
Faye tried to maintain his indignant expression, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. He nudged Taru again, harder this time.
For a little while, the two of them simply enjoyed the shade.
It was a small luxury.
They had crossed into a universe ruled by a tyrant who had murdered a God of Destruction, enslaved the divine guardians, and turned the Dragon Balls into instruments of control. They had encountered enemies capable of disrupting Taru's ki, and now an imperial fleet was attempting to dismantle the very barrier that had protected the last Namekians for decades.
There was no guarantee that they would leave Namek alive.
There was no guarantee that they could free the Kais.
And there was certainly no guarantee that Taru could defeat Frieza.
But for a few minutes, beneath the branches of a tree, Faye could rest his head against Taru's shoulder and pretend the universe had not yet decided to ruin everything.
Taru glanced down at him.
"You're quiet."
"I'm enjoying the scenery."
"You've been staring at the same patch of grass for five minutes."
"It's fascinating grass."
"Of course."
Faye sighed.
Then his expression changed.
The playfulness did not vanish completely, but it settled into something more thoughtful.
"I've been thinking about the prison."
Taru's gaze shifted toward him.
"Go on."
"The suppression network is the key. We know the Kais are immortal because of Earth's Dragon Balls, but we don't know whether their divine power is being continuously suppressed by the network or whether the network simply prevents them from acting against Frieza."
"Probably both."
"Probably. And if we can reach the central system, we might be able to disrupt the seals long enough for them to regain control of their own energy."
Taru considered that.
"It could work."
"Which is why I think we should split up."
Taru turned his head fully.
"No."
Faye blinked.
"I haven't explained the plan yet."
"I heard enough."
"Oh, splendid. Shall I simply go back to eating fruit while you decide everything?"
Taru sat upright.
"Faye."
"No, no. Please. Continue. Tell me how my plan is terrible before you've even heard the entire thing. It's one of your most charming qualities."
Taru gave him a flat look.
Faye smiled sweetly.
Then he continued.
"You go after Frieza and the Nameless Namekian. Keep their attention on you. If they're worried about the Saiyan who killed Dodoria, they won't be looking for a Kai slipping through the palace's lower systems."
"And you would be the Kai slipping through the lower systems."
"Very good. I knew you were capable of following a conversation."
Taru's expression did not change.
Faye sighed.
"Yes, I would be the one infiltrating the palace. I know how divine suppression systems work. I can recognize the seals, identify the points where the network channels its power, and perhaps even find a way to weaken the immortality wish without destroying the Dragon Balls."
He leaned forward, becoming more animated as he explained.
"You would be the distraction. I would find the prisoners. Once I locate the Kais, I could work with them to disrupt the network from the inside. If we're lucky, they might even be able to help us from there."
For a moment, Taru said nothing.
Faye watched him carefully.
He knew the plan was dangerous. He knew it depended on several assumptions that might prove incorrect. But it was the first idea they had discussed that gave him a role beyond waiting for Taru to win a fight.
He wanted to help.
He wanted to be useful.
And, although he would never admit it aloud, he wanted Taru to trust him enough to let him take a risk.
Taru finally spoke.
"Absolutely not."
Faye's jaw dropped.
"Oh, you infuriating"
"No."
"You cannot just say no!"
"I can, and I have."
"Taru!"
"Faye."
They stared at one another.
Faye threw both hands into the air.
"Fine! Wonderful! Brilliant! I shall simply sit here looking pretty while you punch your way through a palace full of monsters. Perhaps I'll knit you a little scarf for the occasion."
Taru caught his wrist before he could stand.
"Sit down."
Faye looked at his hand.
Then at his face.
His expression was still irritated, but he sat back down.
Taru released his wrist.
"Listen to me. Your plan has one serious flaw."
"Only one? How generous."
"You."
Faye stared at him.
Taru continued before he could interrupt.
"You're not strong enough to survive a direct encounter with Frieza or the Nameless Namekian. You barely survived Dodoria's attack, and that was before the Namekian barrier was involved. If you infiltrate the palace and Frieza discovers you, he won't need to defeat you in a fair fight. He can send the Nameless Namekian to capture you, or use you to force me into doing something reckless."
Faye's expression tightened.
"And you think I don't understand that?"
"I think you're underestimating how quickly it could happen."
"I'm a Kai, Taru. I'm not a child."
"I know."
"Then stop treating me like one!"
The words came out sharper than he intended, and Faye immediately looked away.
For a few moments, only the breeze moved between them.
Taru rubbed a hand over his face.
He was not angry with Faye.
That was the problem.
He understood exactly why Faye wanted to take the risk. He had seen the same determination in Shin, in Anat and Khai, and in the countless people who had chosen to stand beside him when doing so would have been easier than walking away.
He respected that determination.
But respect did not make him willing to watch Faye walk into a situation where a single mistake could get him killed.
Taru lowered his voice.
"I'm not saying you can't help. I'm saying I won't send you into a trap when we don't know enough about it."
Faye folded his arms.
"And what if we never learn enough?"
"Then we find another way."
"What if there isn't another way?"
"Then I go in alone."
Faye let out a disbelieving laugh.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The Taru solution. If something is dangerous, Taru does it himself. If someone is likely to die, Taru insists on being the one who dies first. Very noble. Very dramatic. Absolutely infuriating."
Taru's expression became still.
Faye looked at him.
"Do you have any idea how frightening it is to travel with someone who treats his own survival as optional?"
The question was quieter than the others.
Taru did not answer immediately.
Faye lowered his eyes to the grass.
"You can survive things that would kill most people. I know that. I've seen you fight. I've seen what happens when you release even a fraction of your power."
He swallowed.
"But that doesn't mean you should assume you can do everything alone. And it doesn't mean the rest of us should be expected to sit around waiting for you to come back."
Taru watched him carefully.
Faye's fingers had curled into the fabric over his knees.
"I'm not asking you to let me fight Frieza," he continued. "I'm asking you to let me do something that matters."
The words hung between them.
Taru looked toward the river.
He had spent so much of his existence becoming powerful enough to prevent others from controlling him that he sometimes forgot what it felt like to be the person who had to watch someone else walk into danger.
He had made the same mistake before.
He had called it protection.
Sometimes, it had been.
Sometimes, it had been fear wearing a more respectable face.
Taru turned back toward Faye.
"I don't want you to die."
Faye's expression softened, although the irritation remained around the edges.
"Well, that's reassuring. I was worried you'd become bored of me."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Taru took a slow breath.
"If Frieza discovers you inside the palace, he may use you to get to me. And if the Nameless Namekian comes after you, I don't know whether you'll be able to escape. I don't know what he can do, and I don't know how much of Kami remains inside him."
"Then help me become harder to catch."
Taru paused.
Faye leaned closer.
"You've been teaching me how to control my God ki. You know I can sense the suppression network. If we spend time learning its structure, I might be able to mask my energy or slip through the gaps in its detection system."
"That would take time."
"Then we start now."
"And if it doesn't work?"
Faye's lips curled into a mischievous smile.
"Then you can carry me out of the palace while I complain about how badly your plan has gone."
Taru stared at him.
Faye widened his eyes innocently.
"What? You were going to carry me anyway."
Despite himself, Taru laughed.
Faye grinned, pleased with the result.
"There. That's better. You were beginning to look like a particularly grumpy statue."
Taru shook his head.
"You're impossible."
"And yet you brought me along."
"You climbed onto my back."
"Details."
Taru leaned back against the tree again, but his expression remained thoughtful.
Faye had a point.
If they could not find a way for him to contribute safely, he would eventually attempt something on his own. Better to train him, prepare him, and understand his limits than leave him to improvise when the situation became desperate.
That did not mean Taru intended to agree to the original plan.
It meant they needed a better one.
"All right," he said.
Faye immediately sat straighter.
"All right?"
"We'll investigate the suppression network. We'll find out how it works, what the Nameless Namekian can do, and whether there's a way to interfere with the immortality wish."
Faye's smile widened.
"And then I infiltrate the palace?"
"No."
His smile vanished.
"Taru!"
"You'll help me develop a method for you to move through the network without being detected. If we can find a way to get you near the prison safely, we'll discuss the next step."
Faye considered that.
It was not what he had wanted.
But it was more than he had expected to receive from Taru a few minutes earlier.
"Fine," he said at last. "I'll accept that."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Now, since I've graciously agreed not to throw myself into an imperial death trap, I believe I deserve a reward."
Taru raised an eyebrow.
"What sort of reward?"
Faye leaned against his shoulder again.
"More fruit. And perhaps a little affection from the person who has been worrying about me so much."
Taru smiled and slipped an arm around him.
"That can be arranged."
"Excellent. I knew you had some redeeming qualities."
They settled beneath the tree, their conversation gradually returning to lighter subjects. Faye complained about the lack of decent cooking supplies on Namek. Taru suggested that he learn to make something from the local vegetables. Faye informed him that if he ever asked him to cook for an entire village again, he would personally arrange for Taru to do the washing-up.
For a little while, they were simply themselves.
But Taru's awareness remained extended toward the horizon.
Something was approaching.
He could feel the distant fluctuations in the barrier, the growing pressure of imperial energy, and a strange green signature moving through the outer reaches of the system.
That last presence was unlike anything he had sensed before.
Wild.
Unstable.
And growing stronger with every passing moment.
Taru's eyes opened.
Faye noticed the change immediately.
"What is it?"
Taru slowly withdrew his arm from around him and sat upright.
"Someone's coming."
"Frieza?"
"No."
Taru looked toward the distant sky.
The green signature surged again, and for one brief instant, the pressure reached Namek itself.
The grass flattened.
The leaves above them trembled.
Faye's face paled.
"That feels… wrong."
Taru's expression hardened.
He could not yet tell whether the approaching warrior was an enemy, an ally, or something far more dangerous.
But he knew one thing.
Whatever had destroyed the imperial fleet was now heading toward Namek.
And if its energy continued to rise at that rate, the approaching stranger might prove to be the most unpredictable presence in this already broken universe.
Taru slowly rose to his feet.
Beside him, Faye set the bowl of fruit aside and stood as well.
"Please tell me," Faye muttered, "that this time we're not going to be attacked by someone with a personal grudge against Saiyans."
Taru watched the distant horizon.
"I make no promises."
Faye closed his eyes.
"Of course you don't."
Far beyond the barrier, the masked warrior continued toward the planet, his green aura flickering against the stars.
And inside Frieza's palace, the emperor received the first report of the fleet's destruction.
He read it once.
Then again.
His expression did not change.
But the wineglass in his hand cracked.