Going Native: Desires Unfulfilled (ch. 64) (Patreon)

I awoke with a start, clawing my way back to consciousness, because even in the blissful realm of unconsciousness, I knew every second counted. That there was simply too much to do for me to be down for the count. The Khundian empire had submitted and it would cause ripples across the galaxy. Mongul had been defeated. If we found a way to utilize the Warworld, then that was another powerful tool on our side.

Broly…

The only issue was that… that feeling didn't go away. Even as my eyes pried themselves open, and I found myself submerged in a healing tank with a Medicine Ball dying the green fluid purple, I could feel it. My ki felt wrong. However long I had been out for wasn't enough to put me back into tiptop shape, but my ki was more than just fumes.

It was dense and heavy. Vicious, like sludge. It was all wrong. Ki was meant to be smooth and light, easily malleable. At least it was that way for me. It couldn't be more different. What's more, the pain from the Wrath State was still there. Letting go of the technique wasn't enough to make it stop. I had pulled too hard at the well of power, and now…

Now I had crippled myself at the worst possible time imaginable.

"Damn it," I cursed, my hands curling into fists. However long I had been out for was enough to regrow the arm. And undo whatever had been done to free my other from the Nth metal that encased it. Words failed to describe how I was feeling. Or I failed. It… it was like the rug had been swept underneath me and I had only realized when I fell flat on my face.

Gritting my teeth, I slammed a fist on the drainage button, only to hit it too hard. The screen broke and the healing pod failed to drain. A flash of annoyance filled me as I ripped the mask off of my face, before tearing the hatch door off completely. Healing fluid spilled from the pod, but I paid it no mind.

The body dysphoria had lessened some. I still felt too big for my body, but it was fine. I could adapt. The real issue presented itself when I was forced to step over the busted door instead of flying over it. Out of everything I had learned to do with ki, flying had been the first. The simplest, even. Now I couldn't even do that.

A feeling that I could only describe as despair gripped my heart. No matter how many times I thought it, the disbelief still caught me off guard. I had crippled myself. I kept expecting to just be able to use my ki just as easily as I had before, and then it just wouldn't work. It was too heavy. Too difficult to command. It was like my body was disobeying my orders in a way that I never thought possible.

My lips pressed together into a thin line before I spotted some clothing. "No," I told myself, getting dressed. The action showed me how different things were -- I couldn't float to make putting the undersuit on easier. "No."

I took in a deep breath, my heart pounding in ways that never happened outside of battle. "This won't last," I told myself, trying to will myself to believe it. To make it true. This would not last. I wouldn't let it. I would reclaim my ability to fly. I would reclaim my ability to perform techniques. That was a fact. It would happen. I would make it happen.

Taking in another deep breath, I got dressed with more difficulty than I had ever experienced before. I was in my bedroom, so my ship must be here. The reinforcements I had requested hopefully with them. We had a rare opportunity to dig in deep on Thanagar and we couldn't afford to let this opportunity slip between our fingers. With that thought in mind I stepped out of my room, uncaring of the flooding, and marched to the command deck.

My ship never seemed so large as it did when I was forced to walk its length. Flying made it seem so small, but now it took me minutes just to reach an elevator. As I walked, I saw my soldiers milling about, doing their own tasks. And without fail, every one of them seemed to stop and stare at me as I passed.

Every fiber of my being screamed at me that they knew. That they knew I had been crippled. How they knew was beyond me. Had the information been leaked? Had Vegeta told them? Did Shayera? Did… did Lord Frieza know?

The very thought of it sent chills down my spine as I entered the elevator and picked a floor. My chest rose and fell, my breathing deep -- the same way it was when I was pacing myself during a fight. But even most fights, before Mongul, failed to make me break a sweat.

Wiping it away, I tried to gather myself and prepare for the next move. I might be… completely useless in a fight now, but I still had my tactics. Plans needed to be reconsidered now that I couldn't fight. We would have to rely on the Khundian Empire more. My empire would have to accept loans I'd rather not take to purchase more armies. Anything to make up for the lack of firepower.

"I'll have to use Saibamen," I thought to myself. I had avoided it because they were the incarnation of evil, and how they fought would set the Khundian's against me. Now that I had crippled myself, I didn't have much of a choice.

The elevator doors opened to reveal someone was waiting for me on the other side. To my shock, it was Fasha and Bardock. I went still, wondering what they were doing here. Did they hear that I was a cripple now? Maybe to challenge me for my thoroughly hollow place as the most powerful Saiyan alive? That lie had always been a bitter one, but now it tasted like ash.

“Tarble. Knew you’d be up and about already,” Fasha greeted me with a smile. Then it grew a little strained, “And I’ve heard about you using my techniques!” She said with a faux kind tone as she reached out to me. Cripple or not, I easily dodged the offending hand.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I answered, my tone harsher than I intended. It seemed to catch both of them off guard, but I changed the subject. “What are you doing here?” I questioned -- to my knowledge, both of them should be on the war front, not here. Gawking.

The edges of Bardock’s lips twisted into a frown, but he answered. “We were stationed in Khundian space. Since they’re our allies now, we weren’t needed. When you sent out the SOS that Mongul was here, you got a lot of attention. Most of the team is on their way. Matillo has already arrived.”

That much was true. I had most of the team stationed against the Khunds, because they respected power as much as they respected strength.

I nodded, accepting the answer as I stepped out of the elevator and ignored the odd look Fasha’s was giving me. “I see. Mongul has been dealt with already. The others are better off turning their attention to more important matters.” That, and the fewer people that saw me like this the better. “Has there been any move to take Thanagar by enemy forces since I’ve been out?” I asked, starting to walk. Each step I took felt like an admission that I couldn’t fly anymore.

There was a beat of uneasy silence, though that could have just been on my end. “Yeah. I guess you could say that,” Fasha answered, her tone hesitant. I stopped walking to look at the both of them behind me, a silent demand for an explanation. Fasha and Bardock shared a look. They were unusually tense for what should be a simple answer.

“Thanagar is gone,” Bardock explained bluntly. I blinked in confusion, the words not quite fitting together in my mind.

“What do you mean, Thanagar is gone?” I asked, a deep frown settling on my face.

“I mean the entire planet is gone,” Bardocd explained, his tone grave enough he understood the implications of an entire planet vanishing. “Your fleet arrived first, and they said that the only planet nearby was what was left of the Warworld. They searched the system, but Thanagar was gone before then. Technician teleported in and said he found traces of some kind of weird radiation, but nothing to answer who took the planet.”

Oh. That wasn’t good.

I took in a deep breath, grabbing hold of my panic with an iron grip. Even still, it proved to be a more unwieldy beast than ever before. Though, that did explain why Mongul had vanished. Whoever took Thanagar took him as well. That was a serious problem, but there were more pressing issues. “Does Lord Frieza know?” For the very first time, I found myself on uncertain footing. There were factors that were in the air that I wasn’t used to being in the air and there were a lot of them.

Bardock met my gaze and offered a curt nod. “He does. Your brother already left to do damage control,” Bardock explained, sounding like he understood that damage control and Vegeta did not go together. It wasn’t that I was trying to look down at him or anything, especially not when he answered my call for help, but it was clear to me and everyone else who was the more diplomatic between the two of us. “Frieza wanted to speak to you when you woke up. In person.”

Fasha took a step forward, throwing on a hesitant smile. “I’m sure that it’ll be fine, Tarble! You’ve been the golden boy and employee of the year for… what, nearly a decade at this point?”

I turned away and resumed walking, “That means nothing to Lord Frieza.” It was galling how that was true. I couldn’t imagine myself ever dismissing or outright killing Technician or Avery because of one failure. But I was not Lord Frieza, and Lord Frieza was most certainly not me. “My value to him comes from the fact that I have always exceeded his expectations. Now I have fallen short. The largest source of Nth metal is gone, taken by an unknown force. Probably an enemy one.”

Or someone new was throwing their hat in the ring. If the others had the ability to teleport a planet, then they would have done so before. I had been looking into the possibility of moving Thanagar, or possibly destroying, it but the logistics never quite worked out when the entire galaxy had been fighting for it.

Regardless, that was a spectacular failure.

“But you took out Mongul! That has to account for something, right?” Fasha pressed, and this time it was Bardock who answered.

“I’ve seen Frieza kill people for doing their jobs correctly,” Bardock said, a sigh in his tone. “Taking out Mongul won’t mean anything to Frieza. At this point, your best bet is to ask him to give you a second chance.”

The timing couldn’t be worse. It really couldn’t. Not only had I lost Thanagar, but I crippled myself. Any promises that I made would ring hollow when I wasn’t capable of even a fraction of what I once was.

“Haaa…” I sighed, “Frieza isn’t exactly known for his generosity.” I remarked with a shake of my head. It was an odd thought, but I might be dying soon. A concern that I never really had before, but Frieza might kill me over this. And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. One mistake would be enough to seal my fate after a lifetime of success. It was… frustrating. Just as frustrating as my crippling. That Frieza would be willing to just kill me after serving him for my entire life.

Fasha fell silent at that, hopefully figuring out that there was no reassurance that she could give. I heard her sigh behind me as we continued to walk through the halls. “So, what’s the game plan?” Fasha asked, sounding like she half expected me to declare a rebellion here and now. It was a nice thought, but not a realistic one.

Though, I had to admit that was a very good question. It felt like I was surrounded by enemies on all sides -- including the Frieza-Force. The support and favor I had enjoyed up until this point that warded off the worst of the worst in the Trade Organization was most likely gone. And the war still raged across the galaxy.

“You said Technician was here?” I asked, swallowing my panic like a stone and focusing on what I could do. Admittedly, it wasn’t anywhere near as much as I would like, but something was still something. Fasha gave a confirmation. “Tell him to meet us at the command deck,” I ordered. I would do it, but I didn’t have a scouter. Fasha obeyed, taking out her own before sending the message.

It would have been a faster trip if I had asked one of them to fly me there. But I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t leave my mouth, even if I wanted them to. Amongst my species, I’ve found that I was amongst the most humble. If only by virtue that I was willing to swallow my pride when the occasion called for it. But there were different kinds of pride. There was asking for help when there was something that you couldn’t do. Then there was asking for help doing something you should be able to do.

The latter was far more difficult to do.

Because of that, Technician beat us to the command deck. As did Matillo. The aging Saiyan looked good -- or, rather, he looked as he ever did. He nodded a greeting(,) and while we hadn’t had the chance to speak as often as either of us would like because of the war, he said nothing now. Technician seemed to buzz around, taking his work with him to the point that he barely noticed my entrance.

I had to cough to get his attention and the alien jerked in surprise like he couldn’t possibly have expected for me to be here. “Ah! Prince Tarble! Congratulation on your victory over Mongul and seizing the Warworld.” I knew he meant the words, but they felt hollow. I didn’t dare explain why as to avoid contradicting whatever story that Vegeta had given them after I had passed out.

And it was difficult to judge how much they knew. Did any of them know about my… disability? Had Vegeta said anything about it at all? Did it reflect on my power level? I didn’t know. For so long, I was used to having solid ground underfoot when it came to these interactions, but now it felt like shifting sand.

“The Warworld. Can we use it?” I asked, looking at a hologram to see the Warworld on display. It looked a lot different now from when I had first seen it. A quarter of it was gone, traces of damage could be seen around the chunk that was missing. Based on surface damage alone, I would say that up to half of the Warworld was damaged or gone. Taking it from planet buster to unable to fly.

Talk about a fall from grace.

“As it is now? No,” Technician swiftly answered. That much I should have expected. “I anticipated your needs. Currently we're hooking up a slipstream drive to the Warworld’s mainframe and creating a control port.” Technician offered a smile and I felt some of the pressure ease off of me. He really did anticipate my needs.

“What for?” Fasha questioned, sounding curious, but disinterested.

“The Warworld needs time to repair. We can do so in slipspace due to the use of drones. Capsules with necessary materials are being loaded from the fleet,” Technician explained in part, leaving the exact reason why I needed that to happen to me.

“Frieza needs to see the Warworld. Mongul was able to do as he wished because of the Warworld. If we have it operational, then we’ve traded a planet for a planet rather than just lost Thanagar,” I explained. And it felt… so damn shameful that I needed help cleaning up my screw up. I shouldn’t have passed out. If I had just a little more juice in me, then I could have investigated Mongul’s death. I could have seen his disappearance as well as the theft of Thanagar.

I wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Vegeta might have, though. At the very least, we could have gotten a lead to bring to Frieza.

Technician nodded, “The Warworld is… something special. Very special. Surface repairs will require a year. To bring it back to its former glory will take closer to three.” My lips thinned at that -- slipstream was finicky. It was faster in some places, slower than others and sometimes it switched between the two for seemingly no reason at all. A three-year trip would be… a year, more or less.

“The power source is an ion-based crystal. Seemingly limitless high-output power that can fuel the Warworld for… forever. Possibly. It can support a more power demanding slip drive which will allow greater control over time dilation.” Technician spoke up, setting the problem aside. “It will need fine-tuning, but could make the trip in a more reasonable timeframe. Estimate anywhere between a day and a month. System will need to be finalized for a more accurate prediction.”

I heard Bardock hum behind me, “So, the plan is to send the Warworld into slipspace and hope that it gets to Frieza on time before you?” He questioned, and I shook my head.

No… I cast a look at Matillo, who cocked his head like he was surprised I would turn to him. “No, I’ll be in the Warworld as well. Then we’ll arrive at the same time,” I decided. I would have to give up three years of my life, but… if the theory about my race’s lifespan was right, then three years were a drop in the bucket. Even if it was wrong, it was still worth it.

Me arriving with a refurbished Warworld would be a better opening to the conversation than me arriving without the Warworld. As Ada’la said all those years ago -- perception matters.

Still, it was three years for me. Arrangements would have to be made prior to departure. Like ensuring that I would have enough food.

Technician nodded, “This was necessary. The Warworld requires physical interface with a living being. It’s completely designed around it. Referencing combat data provided by Prince Vegeta, we are looking into alternative methods of control, but for now, someone will need to be in direct control of the Warworld.” That settled it then.

“Would it be possible to develop another way to use it within three years?” I asked with a frown, thinking it all over. Frieza didn’t wear clothes or jewelry of any kind. Asking him to wear a headset or clothes might not go over well.

“Not without radically altering the systems in place. It would take years to understand them well enough to give an expected timeframe for changing the systems,” Technician shook his head, so it was a lost cause. Not good, but manageable. What was important was that the Warworld functioned again.

I nodded, accepting that. There was nothing we could do. If anything, I should be thankful that I had any alternatives at all rather than lamenting that I didn’t have the perfect one. “Very well then. Send me the control device and alert me when the drive has been installed. I’ll leave at once.” I told Technician, earning a small nod from him.

In the end, it would only be anywhere between a day or a month until I see him again, so I didn’t bother making a show of saying farewell to him. Turning around, I saw Matillo, Bardock, and Fasha were looking at me. I walked past them, getting my thoughts in order. They didn’t have scouters on, but I didn’t want anything that was being said to reach sensitive ears.

As we left the command center, I spoke up. “We have to assume that the month-long gap is the expectation. I can’t afford to take all of you with me. The front is too unstable for everyone to come with me. Not to mention how that would look to Frieza.” I started as we walked. The pace was dictated by my legs, so for them, the pace must have been unbearably slow.

“You can’t seal yourself away for three years, Tarble,” Fasha rebutted sharply.

“I will. And I have to. I’m more worried about what Frieza will say if it does take a month for us to reach him.” A day was an acceptable delay, for the most part. I had no clue how long I’ve been out for in the first place, so he could just assume that I was recovering. Longer than that, then he’ll start to question and make assumptions. A month could be enough to dim the flames of his anger, but it would also be a month that I hadn’t proven my value to him after a spectacular failure.

“With the Khunds in play and Thanagar gone, the front is going to need to be restructured across the line.” For starters, I could have my more powerful soldiers used on my laundry list of enemies rather than the Khunds. With Thanagar gone, a point of obvious contention had vanished ,so the enemy would redeploy elsewhere. I would need to counter that redeployment with my own troops.

Which reminded me that I needed to go on a recruitment drive to replace the soldiers I had lost.

“I get that,” Fasha responded, her tone even, but there was annoyance leaking through. “Tarble- just stop for a second, okay?” She requested, but it came out more of a demand. I slowed to a stop, but I didn’t look at her, so I only heard her sigh. “I heard about Broly. I know he was your friend… I’m sorry he’s gone.”

… I was right. Sending Broly to earth only hit me after he was long gone.

My hands curled into fists at my side before I forced them to unclench. It was better for him this way. Broly was never meant for war. He hadn’t ever surrendered that piece of himself that was continuously horrified by the death and destruction that he was forced to see. That he was forced to cause. Sending him to earth was freeing him of his own personal hell.

“It’s fine,” I responded, my tone harsh. “I’m fine.”

The words tasted like a lie.

…

Junkrat and Technician made a rather good team. Between the two of them, it only took half a day for the slip drive to be installed. After that, it was just green lighting a checklist to make sure it could endure three years in slipspace, and it had the supplies it needed for repairs. The drones would take care of everything else.

Yet, when I entered the command room of the Warworld, I saw that I had guests. Matillo and Bardock stood in the room. I met their gazes evenly as the doors slid shut behind me, having sensed both of them beforehand. A moment passed before a quiet sigh escaped me, “I thought Fasha would be here too.”

“She wants to, but I convinced her that you were right. That, and I don’t think she wants to spend three years away from her troops,” Bardock responded, his arms crossed over his chest. That was good news, at least. “So… what is the problem with your ki? Can you just not use it or what?”

It wasn’t a surprise that someone had figured it out. Vegeta had kept his mouth shut in regards to the events of Mongul’s defeat. Broly had died before we had arrived. Vegeta had answered my request, then we both battled Mongul and won through a cheap victory of spacing him. Only a few knew that Mongul was likely still alive. And none knew about my encripplment.

I met Bardock’s gaze for a moment before I nodded, “I pulled too hard at the Oozaru transformation, and pushed the Wrath State too far. Something happened -- I’m stuck in Stage Ten, which would be fine, but the real issue is that my ki has changed. Its dense like it is during a full transformation.”

Bardock let out a huff while Matillo frowned, “Only you would think that being stuck in the Wrath State is fine,” he remarked. Before I could retort, Matillo spoke up.

“I see. You intended on mimicking my talents of using ki in the oozaru form?” He questioned, earning a nod from me. I had witnessed him doing it years ago, way back on Rench, but there had never been any time to explore the ability. The Wrath State, for the most part, had completely replaced the Oozaru transformation. So, it had seemed defunct in the first place. Not to mention at the time I was getting used to commanding troops and exploring other techniques like the Medicine Ball.

I nodded at Matillo, “You proved it was possible. I was going to spend the next three years relearning how to control my ki.” The goal was to reclaim all that I had lost. At the very least, I wanted to mimic my abilities and hide the fact that I no longer had them until I could reclaim them in full.

Matillo looked faintly amused by that, “It took me near a century to master my ki in the Oozaru transformation.” He remarked, before his lips twitched upwards, “But, I suppose that time could be cut down with a teacher.”

There was a tension in me that eased away with the words. I… I don't know what I expected, in all honesty. I'm not sure if there ever was a Saiyan cripple before, so I didn't know what to expect as a reaction. Judgment is what I feared. That without my strength, I would be nothing. That as soon as anyone learned, they would turn their backs on me.

It was shameful. It was pathetic. That fear disgusted me on a fundamental level, but I couldn't seem to control it. Even the reassurance that Matillo wouldn't do that wasn't enough to make it vanish.

"... Thank you," I told Matillo. The fear that had worked its way into my heart was still there, but there was also… hope. That with his help, I could return to how I was. That I could reclaim my techniques and former power.

"Of course, my prince. I have wished to pass on my techniques for some time now," Matillo said, making it sound like I was doing him the favor by learning. "It's what old men like me value. Power fades. As does glory when all those that could understand it die. But… a legacy endures. King Vegeta the First proved that much."

I… see. With the Wrath State replacing the Oozaru transformation, without truly meaning to, I had stolen what would be his legacy. And Bardock's as well. He had other things going for him, but the Power Ball was what allowed us to transform without a full moon. Another technique that was rendered almost pointless with the Wrath State.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, feeling that I should apologize.

Matillo let out a huff, "Do not be sorry my prince. Just learn what I have to teach you." Matillo returned, his tone firm(,) but not unkind.

"I'm coming with so you'll have a decent training partner," Bardock spoke up, offering a small shrug. Matillo cast a mild glare at Bardock, but did not argue the point. Bardock was in the top five most powerful Saiyans -- and the true list at that.

For Matillo, while he had gotten stronger over the years, it seemed that the explosive growth of the younger generation was beyond him. His base power level rested at eight thousand points, little more than three thousand more points than he had started the war with. No one really said anything about it, but we all suspected it was because he had long since left his prime.

"The war could use you," I pointed out, but Bardock shook his head.

"I'm good with situations in the moment and thinking on the fly. Put me in your chair and I'll screw something up. Commanding millions isn't something you can learn on the fly," Bardock admitted. I thought he was underselling himself a fair bit. He would need some experience first, but I thought he could do everything I had. And more, possibly. "Plus, it'll be nice knocking some sense into you. Just like old times," he remarked with a smirk.

… Okay. That settled that -- both of them were coming with me. The system all had green lights -- everything was ready to go…

I unsealed a capsule to reveal my scouter and an undersuit. It would control the Warworld, acting as a headband, only with far more redundancies. The black mesh had silver lines snaking across it -- a prototype of the synthetic nth metal. Putting both on, I saw that the metal outlined my physique.

Pulling up a message on my scouter, one that I had pre-written, I looked at it one final time, debating on if I should send it. It was short, barely a sentence really. Still, I hesitated, worried that this one would be ignored like all others.

In the end, I came to a decision. I pressed send before I felt my consciousness brush against the Warworld. It was huge. Vast. Like an ocean of data, and I was a mere drop in that ocean.

Even still, I commanded it to move and the Warworld obeyed just as the message was sent. Just five words that conveyed all that they needed to.

Thank you for coming, Vegeta.