Planet to Planet
Chapter Three
How long he had been sitting behind the computer console, he didn't know. All Totepo knew was that the way the information was laid out was ridiculous! Not that it wasn't organized; in fact, there was an editorial in front of him explaining the beginnings of the Planet Trade. That was it. No table of contents, no options to choose from. Just this damned article.
Totepo tried, of course, to see if there was a combination of words he had to type in to get a table of contents or a search box. He tried everything logical, and even tried just typing all the symbols on the keyboard one at a time. Nothing happened. He thought it to be very much absurd; how did the technicians get to where they wanted without having to scroll down all the way through? Surely they never kept the computers on up until the point where they abandoned the headquarters!
But he had no choice but to scroll down the article. He could not speed through it, for eventually he might run into something about the Saiya-jin. It could be a long while, considering that he was just now at the starting point of King Cold's reign --and the Saiya-jin didn't even join the Planet Trade until Freeza had control of the system. Even then, Totepo wouldn't want to learn about when the Saiya-jin got involved. He knew.
How could he forget such an eventful and crushing --yet depressing-- period of his life?
He knew no one on Vegetasei. Not because of denial, not because he was a newcomer to the planet. Because all of his companions and comrades that he grew up with or met during the Wakusei War were dead. Every single one of them. Most of them did die during the war against the Tsufuru-jin --damned those weaklings' battle strategies, why couldn't they just use the hit-and-run technique? But the ones that Totepo felt closest to were killed by the natives of the planet Kagayaku.
If he felt like it, he could easily meet other Saiya-jin in the bars and arenas. It should not be hard at all. However, there were so many Saiya-jin that looked alike that Totepo wouldn't bear to even look or speak to any of them because most, in one way or the other, had too much of resemblance to his dead companions.
He knew it was stupid to continue living life the way he was, but what was the use of doing anything else? Both official and unofficial tournaments were hard enough to get into; therefore he had never felt the need to try to get in. At those tournaments he had to keep his eye on his opponent, so what if his opponent looked closely related to someone he used to know? He spent most of his days at the bars, but always fading himself into a corner so no one would see him and he would see no one he didn't want to see.
The reason why he didn't want to be seen by anybody was quite simple: the other Saiya-jin would either taunt him for being alone (most of the time, the males) or they will ask him why he wasn't with any other Saiya-jin and if he gave an answer, would at least try to understand (most of the time, the females). Of course, taunts would lead to fights, meaning that he would have to look at another Saiya-jin. And those who asked instead of teased will not be able to understand at all.
Sure, everyone else probably lost a comrade in the war, but no one had seen their comrades' bodies torn apart. Missing limbs leading to their death. That was what had happened on Kagayaku. The natives struck, cleanly slicing through three of his comrades' arms and legs --there was no 'ors'-- and literally tearing off the heads of two others. By the request of the last two to die he fled the planet with only the horror image of decapitated bodies.
He was pretty sure that was the first time any Saiya-jin died in such an atrocious manner.
Totepo suspected that his desire to not associate with others had help --the others did not want to associate with him either. He was heading into his middle-aged years in a matter of a couple standard years and most surviving Saiya-jin of the Wakusei War were ten years younger than him. He always looked older than he really was, unlike many other Saiya-jin. It would always be an asset of his.
Although no one in the bar would ever speak to him, they never cared how close they came to him. Therefore, he had a good ear of everything that was going on around him and every single conversation that occurred. It wasn't exactly eavesdropping, though most of the time Totepo found each discussion to be quite intriguing. Since he never got out too much it helped him keep up with the rumors and news that roamed the planet. However, the ones that usually perked his attention were the ones by a certain couple of companions, whose names never reached his ears.
Today, that was the one discussion that he was finally glad to listen to, and not for leisure. It was about a very important issue that he would have never have heard about until it was too late:
"By the way, did you hear what the king just did?"
"Why the hell would I care what the king does? He can do whatever he damned well pleases while us low-level soldiers are stuck taking orders from him!"
"What he did this time concerns all of the Saiya-jin this time, including the elites! I'm pretty sure he sentenced all of us to slavery."
"Now, why would he do such a stupid thing like that?! You must be hearing things again; even the king isn't that stupid to-"
"Shut up for one second and let me explain! The Planet Trade. He entered all of us into the Planet Trade, and now about five hundred selected Saiya-jin are to put together a crew to get the planets cleared off."
"How is that slavery? Isn't that supposed to be fun? And the Planet Trade! We're going to get paid for clearing out planets instead of just doing it as an occasional hobby!"
"But we will be assigned the planets we go to-"
"What's the problem with that?"
"We have a limited time to kill the inhabitants. We can't just go at our own pace anymore. Not to mention that the leader of the Planet Trade is making the king create new laws for the Saiya-jins. Which means that we are under the control of the Planet Trade now, not the king. And the king knows what's best for the Saiya-jin. Not some alien bastard!"
"Now you're getting excited about politics. Calm down; what we have to worry about is finding out who those selected Saiya-jin are and try to get ourselves into one of those crews."
"I still don't like the idea of this..."
"It's not slavery."
"Well, I think it is. But knowing you, I won't bore you with the details I have in mind. I have my reasons. So live with it. Anyway..."
Slavery.
Now that he thought about it, what exactly did the Saiya-jin get in return for their loyalty and service? Betrayal, that was it? There had to be more involved, yet why hadn't the king told them anything at all?
That was excluding the obvious reason that Totepo and all others who frequent the bar were low-level soldiers. Royalty and elites would not acknowledge them as Saiya-jin unless the situation called for it. Nevertheless, they should have known something about the payment they were to receive, even if it was merely a rumor.
Rumors were the main source of most of the news that the third class warriors received. Usually the king would report it to a trusted attendant in the palace, some royal guards will overhear and tell some of their comrades. It eventually reached the elites who would talk about it --quietly or casually, depending on how severe or important it was. A wandering low-level soldier would overhear sometime and tell his companions until eventually everyone knew. However, this was something that never reached the ears of any low-level warrior; was the deal with the Planet Trade so much of a secret that the king couldn't even tell his queen? And the rest of the population of Vegetasei wasn't allowed to hear it either?
Totepo really didn't realize it until now. Perhaps no one except that skeptical Saiya-jin from the bar ever thought about it. Almost all Saiya-jin were like the skeptical Saiya-jin's comrade. Satisfied that they know had a purpose with their entire killing spree and somehow being paid for it. Of course, no one cared how he was rewarded exactly. Even Totepo never gave it a second thought, until now.
That was a long time in the past. The agreement with the Saiya-jin and the Planet Trade was no longer important. Just by looking at his surroundings was enough to tell Totepo that the Planet Trade was no more. He was not sure what happened to the Cold family or the whereabouts of the Saiya-jin. Perhaps Bardock was successful in starting a revolution --and the Saiya-jin won? But that wouldn't explain why Vegetasei was no longer in existence. The Saiya-jin lost?
What happened?
That was what exactly he was trying to find out. So far, there was no success at all. After the past fifteen minutes he spent pondering some events of the past, he just made it to what Cooler had control over and what Freeza had control over. He was getting closer, but his patience was halfway to the point where it would be as short as Panboukin's.
"Aha! Found ya!"
Totepo just had to grin at the irony and the perfect excuse for a break from this torturous screening. It was awkward how one could be comparing their traits to another's, and then have that other arrive a few seconds after. Rather, it was more amusing than it was bizarre, for it happened only once a blue moon. This might be the only excusable break he can get, so he had to take advantage of it.
He withdrew a tiny breath, his pleased expression evacuating the gray surface of his skin. He shifted his left foot around so that the front of his body was no longer in the view of the computer console. Sure enough, the plump figure of his smug companion was standing in the doorway.
Totepo was further content to see that Panboukin did not at all give up on his mission. He succeeded. Not that he had any doubts on his companion, of course, but being isolated in a wraithlike structure such as this, wandering around with no idea where anything was could make one give up in an instant. With Saiya-jin, it was best to not have any questions about their determination, especially when solid evidence was glittering right before his eyes. In this case, it was the lime scouter over Panboukin's left eye and the ruby-tinted version in his fist that was enough to convince anybody with doubts about Saiya-jin.
"Here," Panboukin offered the crimson compact computer by tossing it towards the elder man. "Thought we could all use these."
Totepo accepted the treasure by catching it in mid-air, his extensive arms and body allowing him to do so easily without lifting a foot off the ground. With one glance he was able to examine the scouter for any signs of dust or rust, and surprised to see that there was none. Shrugging his curiosity as to why off his shoulders, the aging Saiya-jin clasped the tiny computer to the side of his head. He tilted his chin a centimeter closer to his neck in a tiny "thank you" gesture.
The Saiya-jin on the other side of the room flashed a momentary smirk of triumph, before shifting his face into a perturbed look. "So how's the," a tentative and disgusted silence commenced at that split second, before the scowling voice reentered the scene, putting a heavy emphasis on the following word, "research going?"
Neither of the Saiya-jin had a single liking for the genius's word, nor Totepo had no intention to emphasize it --consciously or unconsciously. Unfortunately he had no better answer than: "Saiya-jin are warriors, not computer scientists."
Panboukin showed no signs of irritation at all. Instead, a wry, wicked grin bloomed upon his face. "Of course," he agreed in the tone of voice that Totepo and the others knew him by. "So you haven't had much luck, have you?" Totepo shook his head, almost in remorse. Panboukin waved that aside. "I don't blame you. After all --I really hate to admit this, but as fighters Saiya-jin have limited skills."
"And limited power."
That fact brought the uncomfortable silence back into the two Saiya-jins' lives, and the younger man did not object to it at all. After the events on Meatsei, from the very beginning of their fight with the assassins to Celipa's unfortunate accident with the lone, almost unharmed building, all four of the resurrected aliens knew that the Saiya-jin race was not as powerful as they thought they were. Instead, their egos had greater strength than their bodies and inner power put together. It was a nonverbal agreement with at least the three men.
Unexpectedly, Panboukin started to chuckle. "Well, it depends on what kind of power you're talking about. Did you ever think it was possible for Toma to get Celipa into the tank? Especially after the argument they had back on Meatsei?"
"She got in voluntarily?" Totepo almost found that hard to believe. Back to the relieving, carefree times on Vegetasei it would have been believable. Now that Celipa stood up for herself and, most likely, refused to do something she had no desire to do, this piece of news was pretty fantastic.
"Reluctantly, according to Toma," the other Saiya-jin shrugged. "That was something I was forced to believe, that it was not some sort of rendering of the truth. You saw how she was after getting out of her pod. I was surprised to see her in the tank, that I'll tell you." After that comment he flinched and propped a thick hand to the center of his chest. "Well, I might as well go find the armor and underclothing. Shouldn't be too far away from the scouters, eh?"
Totepo nodded his agreement. After Panboukin gave a small salute and left the room, the gray-skinned Saiya-jin was back to where he was. Researching. How annoying that word was. How annoying the job was! But if Panboukin was able to find the scouters without returning to someone without complaining, then he should be able to do this. Seeking items and information was not on the Saiya-jins' skill list, but anything is possible.
Being resurrected will have that encouragement on someone, especially if he grew up to believe that you could only die once.
Unfortunately, the question of how and why they were revived was still a mystery. A mystery that probably would not be solved until he was killed again.
"Butsudo-jin," the Resurrector muttered, surveying the situation on Planet Trade Headquarters Seventy-Eight. "The three traitors of the Butsudo home world. Pairetos."
He only hoped that neither groups collided into one another. He knew of the Butsudo-jin from his time in Heaven, whereas if he had been in Hell he wouldn't have a single piece of knowledge of this green, thick-tailed aliens from a civilization that was a combination of those on Vegetasei and those on Earth. That was what had the Resurrector so worried.
Although the Butsudo-jin used weapons when they warred with another group or race, their physical strength surpassed the entire Saiya-jin race put together. Even if the Resurrector sacrificed some of his own power to help out the four of his "resurrectees", each of them would die instantly. That would only be the case if it were any regular Butsudo-jin in their midst.
Luckily the Pairetos were somewhat reasonable with what they labeled "loot stealers". Instead of killing their victim a bargain was always made. It almost never resulted in the "loot stealers" getting any of the treasure he wants, but rather a chance to live another year or more. However, there was that one time when the three Butsudo-jin were in a hurry, and upon noticing how skilled three Roisei-jin were, the Pairetos were increased to six members.
The Resurrector had no clue what the details were, for the Angels and the Dreammaker never told him the details. The Dreammaker and him were close, as some might say, but not in the friendship way. It was the Dreammaker who had serious doubts about the revival of the four Saiya-jin, but she went along with it. Her rebellion came a few seconds too late after he managed to bring back the plump male and the young female, with the Dreammaker trying to emphasize how wrong it was.
She would understand someday. Although she was a hot-tempered young lady from an alternate dimension of Earth, she came to her senses pretty quickly.
After all, the resurrection of the four Saiya-jin had no effect on the universe. There was a still a score that must be settled in order for all Saiya-jin to be satisfied. Especially the Resurrector himself.