Brother
by Rick Spiff 
A S.E.F.U. Project

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		    Episode 2: Enter the Skeemdians

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Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, the
TCA, and the Skeemdians (well, there's more, but that would be spoiling
the later parts of this story).

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore
(more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this
fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

Quick note:  *Stuff in here is
people's thoughts, not said out loud.*

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The smell of cordite and the stink of dying vegetation hung heavy in the
moist air of Korindoth. Forest-covered islands lay wasting in the water
like doused cinders; clearings once teeming with ferns sporting ten-
foot-long leaves smoldering like the craters of a massive carpet bombing
effort. The forest was oddly quiet; the only ambient sounds came from
the continuous rustle of softly falling leaves and branches laden with
fruit that swayed in the not-so-gentle breeze high above.

James took it all in, crouched low in a grove of trees; each massive
trunk twice as wide as he was tall. Only a dozen yards away, a group of
Skeemdian soldiers patroled the area, working their way towards his
position in a methodical fan formation. James was down half of his
rapid-fire ammo, and he wasn't too keen on using grenades. The knives he
brought had proven virtually useless against the tough armor that the
Skeemdians wore for skin.

The rail gun was out; he'd use that on tougher troops. The handguns were
useless at range; the Skeemdians would cut him apart if he tried those.
He'd already spent more than 60,000 rounds of conventional ammo wasting
the landing area, and while he'd killed almost a thousand troops with
that firepower, dozens still tracked him through the woods.

Energy weapons were out; the batteries on his were shorted and useless.
He only continued to carry it because vaporizing the darned thing was
too dangerous out here in forest fire country.

He waited for them, forcing himself to be absolutely quiet. Hatred
ravaged his soul, the urge to run screaming into the enemy's ranks,
killing everything in sight growing stronger and stronger. With infinite
will and patience born from many years of calm practice, he held himself
still.

Once the enemy was past, he struck.

James sprinted from his cover, beginning with a leap and hitting the
ground at a flat-out run. The tail guard turned just he closed on the
beast with his sword drawn. A single cut severed the Skeemdian's primary
nerve. Since the aliens had no necks, you either had to cut the entire
body into several pieces, or strike with extreme precision when fighting
them with a sword. James could handle them either way, but the odds
weren't in his favor.

At the sound of his blade snapping bone, two more soldiers turned on
him. The fore ranks disarmed their weapons. Too close to fight him with
plasma arms, they went hand-to-hand... or hand-to-sword, as James
preferred. Fighting a Skeemdian completely unarmed was dangerous at
best, utterly lethal at worst. The average Skeemdian weighed over 200
kilograms and sported six heavy limbs like an insect. They had a highly
flexible trunk and had learned to walk on two limbs. One on one, James
would face four arms, each as strong as a normal human's leg, with six
powerful and articulate digits. James often likened the experience to
fighting a stable of angry mules with both hands tied behind his back.

He pulled back, drawing the attacking pair into striking at him first.
They had been well-trained and attacked him simultaneously, but they did
not quite have him. Still too close together, James was able to sever
arms in one motion, only to leap into the air and attack both a second
time from above. The first fell to a killing blow, the second rolling
aside with a minor scratch. James immediately turned his attention to
the next warriors.

Three charged him at once. James took on the first two, watching as they
drew back and kept him at range. The third circled around behind him
silently, then lashed out at James with a well-timed, explosive series
of punches.

James had not forgotten the third attacker, even as his eyes followed
the other ranks. They were circling him, closing in from the kill. As
the third fighter unleashed his attack, the first two pressed him hard.
James cut off two arms of the first attacker, and managed to block a
strong combo from the second. He braced his stance for rapid movement,
then blocked the blows coming at him from behind. The Skeemdian's
armored fists slammed into his sword with a mighty clash that threw
sparks from his blade. Already on the offensive, James jumped forward,
adding the power of the fighter's blow to his own abilities, and jumped
clean over the other two fighters.

The ring of his blade was still on his ears as he landed in a crouch.
The group had pulled back. They circled him like a pack of lions
gathering around a wounded zebra. James slowly stood to his full height
and brought the sword in front of him in a guard position--only then did
he see that why blade had sounded strange when he blocked that last
blow. Eyes wide with shock, he stared at the sheared-off stump of his
sword; the blade had shattered.

The Skeemdians stopped circling and the world became painfully quiet
again.

James cast aside the remains of his sword with a ceremonial air about
him. He eyed his opponents through slitted eyes. He had not yet begun to
take the fight to them, and the pain and hatred of losing an entire race
weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Again, the urge to fight and kill swelled with him. Called by his
emotions, a blue aura began to form, outlining his form with the fire in
his soul.

Over a dozen opponents surrounded him. *Fourteen fighters that I can
see. Two with missing limbs, probably out of commission now.* Thought
James. *That sword did _not_ work as planned.*

The aliens seemed to glare back at him while his aura flowed around him
like a column of hot air, pulling his hair up and tossing it lightly
about while his coat rustled in time with that same silent breeze.

There was no tensing or relaxing on either side. A frightening stalemate
was settling into place.

*Hmm... I didn't even feel that blade shatter. All tests noted it nearly
perfect. A powerful Skeemdian might have that kind of strength, but
could I...* James thought frantically. He had been training for a long
time. For the past year, he and Ed had vastly surpassed the abilities of
normal humans.

*Maybe, just maybe I have a chance...*

No expressions changed. No threats or taunts were used. Only James' aura
changed, increasing in power by the second.

As one the Skeemdians breathed in, preparing for the battle, a curious
non-movement James felt with ease. Then, they attacked.

Instantly, James was under siege. The first was fended of by a vicious
strike that left a crackling trail of blue electricity in its wake. The
second fell to a rapid spinning kick as he tried to sneak up on James'
back. Again, the blue lightning trailed his attacks. The third attacked
with a series of low blows, aiming towards James' legs. James dived
straight at the attacker in a blur, landing a single punch where the
Skeemdian's head would be, driving it back.

A quick sweep took out another opponent behind him, then James drew
himself into a combat stance and began turning in a slow circle. The
aliens circled him in the opposite direction, holding back to appraise
his newfound fighting abilities. Above them, lighting dances across
rapidly gathering clouds. The skies had grown dark over the past few
minutes and now warned of rain in their language of thunder.

No eyes turned skyward. All watched their chosen opponent. James saw
many, the Skeemdians saw one.

Again the thunder roared out its call.

The Skeemdians attacked again, this time from all sides. James jumped
straight up, evading the attack altogether. Why fight an impossible
battle when there was an easier way to win?

The easier way to win was to fight them one at a time. Facing four
double-jointed arms wouldn't be easy, but it would still be easier than
facing a dozen. James landed near the edge of the group, attacking one
soldier near the edge. The fool was boxed in by his comrades and had to
block James' blow. Knowing he could only perform this attack a limited
number of times, James used his Stone-crusher Fist technique. As his fist
hit the Skeemdian's blocking limbs, something extra--something
dangerous--leapt from James' aura and slammed into the alien with much
the same effect as a jack-hammer. The Skeemdian's armor was blown apart
by the attack, sending the nearby fighters scattering.

James landed on the ground next to the wounded fighter and used one of
his many knives to quickly put an end to the Skeemdian's life. The alien
didn't cry out in pain; it just collapsed to the ground without so much
as a twitch. James calmly turned to face the rest, and the skies opened
up.

With the rain falling down about them, in top of them, in between them,
James engaged in battle with the rest of the aliens. A vicious hand-to-
hand fight raged over the muddy ground, James drawing out fighters from
the main group only to quickly end their lives. Those smart or skilled
enough to evade his final attack once were left alone as another of
their comrades was selected for extermination.

Still, James remained too close for using powerful weapons. His anger
was his weapon, and this was to be his vengeance.

----------

At that moment, Ed was hiding under a long-dead fern the size of a
mini-van, counting his supply of grenades. There were seven enemy troops
left, and more on the way if he didn't get lost in a hurry. He had a
good five dozen grenades left, but they weren't terribly useful against
his opponents.

When he and James had found the Skeemdian landing platform, they were
more than a little worried. The standard landing compliment was around
20 soldiers with standard weapons. By the time they showed up, there
were fifty thousand ground troops, two more divisions on the way with
10,000 reinforcements, and the soldiers guarding the landing area had
not only set up a force field to protect their foothold on this planet,
but were armed with the heavy fire energy weapons normally seen in major
engagements. Standing out in the open more than a handful of milli-
seconds was not advised when facing that kind of firepower. By the time
Ed could sight and pull the trigger, he'd be a flash-fried corpse.
Firing blind was an interesting solution, but the forest was too thick
to really let him use the range.

What it boiled down to now was a lose-lose situation. He could fight
them hand-to-hand, of course, but that usually meant risking life and
limb. Pitted against a Skeemdian, the odds of a human surviving were
about one million to one. His odds were much better--about even, when he
didn't have bladed weapons. Once again, Ed cursed himself for not
training with James as much. James was at home with swords, knives, and
bladed chains. Ed was more a mace guy, but he didn't pack one of those
before they left....

"Hmm..." Ed wondered to himself. "I could always toss some rocks at
them."

However, no rocks could be seen on top of the waist-deep foliage that
surrounded him on all sides.

"Stupid rain forest."

They were getting closer. Quiet for their size, the two squads were
pressing on, hoping to corner and destroy Ed. Even if they were
defeated, going out in a blaze of glory would make the reinforcements'
job easier.

Ed took several deep breaths and put away his weapons. He didn't intend
to die out here, and definitely not while fighting such a pathetic
contingent of soldiers.

He stood to his full height, well over six feet. He felt small,
surrounded on all sides by this primitive place, but his blood boiled
with power and the thirst for combat.

"Come on!" He yelled, fists raised to the air, calling out his enemy.
"COME GET SOME!!!"

They were happy to oblige.

Everything happened too fast, even for him. A blur of feet and fists. A
hundred thousand blows passing in the blink of an eye. Even an unarmed
Ed was a dangerous man to mess with, and the Skeemdians did not have the
element of surprise.

He cut through them as the fire of a burning sun would cut through a
spider web. A dash of instant violence followed. He emerged on the other
side, mounting his hiding place of but a second ago.

Eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, Ed watched his enemy with clinical
detachment. Stopping the first attack was instinctive. For the second,
he would have to get inventive.

He leapt from the log just the second alien attacked, bouncing from the
Skeemdian's head like a super-ball. He didn't bother to shed momentum as
he landed; he simply tucked and rolled, crashing to the forest floor
like a rock. The soldiers turned as one to follow him. Ed grinned; this
might turn out to be easier than he thought.

Ed ran. Legs pumping like pistons, he was sure he left the Skeemdians in
the dust. Limbs and leaves reached for his clothing, the fighter dodging
at top speed. The wind cut at his face and howled in his ears. For a few
seconds, he ran free and clear of his pursuers, but they did not remain
behind for long.

The first attacked from the side, a maneuver Ed detected with almost
supernatural ability. He ducked the attack without loosing a step,
turned around in mid-stride, and swung a fist at the Skeemdian's face.
It never entered his mind that he was running at nearly sixty miles per
hour when his fist bounced off the armored Skeemdian's face.

"OH FU--"

Crash.

Burn.

Ed's life was probably saved by his coat. The Skeemdian fell at nearly
the same time, tripping right over Ed's prone body. The weapons expert
skidded for a hundred feet, shredding foliage while he splayed his arms
and feet out, panicking.

"I am _never_ doing that again!" He screamed as he came to a halt.

He was covered in goo. Green, smelly goo. The Skeemdian he had just
attacked was hunched over him. Never an expert at reading Skeemdian
facial expressions, he looked at the geometric patterns that made up the
Skeemdian's face and tried to smile thinly.

"Hi."

An explosion sounded in the distance. The Skeemdian obviously noticed
it, but its gaze did not waver from Ed, who was working a spare knife
down his sleeve. Gutting a Skeemdian with a hand blade wasn't fun, but
being trapped under the behemoth, he was out of options.

For a moment, he could have sworn the alien smiled at him. Then, a blade
punctured its chest, piercing through what passed for a Skeemdian's
neck. Ed stared. He hadn't done that...

The alien was pulled to the side, its 200-kilogram body hitting the
undergrowth with a wet crunch. James stood above his friend, bloody
sword in hand, grinning.

"Knew it was a good idea to pack that spare." James smartly commented,
offering Ed a hand.

Ed took the offering, getting to his feet. "Thanks." He said absently.

The skittering sound announced the backup encircling them. "Looks like
you brought the party." James said, leveling his sword in an attack
stance.

Ed retrieved the emergency crowbar and several hand grenades from his
coat, standing back-to-back with his friend. "Ready?"

He felt James nod his assent. Another explosion in the distance kicked
flaming trees into the air, the charred trunks leaving trails of black
smoke.

"Any idea what the boom is from?" Asked James.

"Nope. I've been busy over here." Ed responded.

"Here's hoping they're friendly." Said James.

The footsteps drew nearer. A lone Skeemdian came into view, only parts
of body seen through the heavy arms of a fern. James smiled at the
approaching alien.

Both tensed, prepared for the worst...

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Preview of the next episode: What? Saiyjins? Could things possibly get
any worse? You bet!

Stay tuned!

NEXT EPISODE: Enter the Saiyjins


First Draft: 11/24/01

    Source: geocities.com/rick_spiff/txt/Brother

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