Time Warriors Chapter 6

The H'trch first mate had not slept during her assigned rest period - instead, she found it necessary to calm herself by mentally calculating the required jump coordinates for their approach to Argus VI. She found pure mathematics to be a soothing pastime, one in which she could lose herself. However, even this attempt at distraction became tired and mundane as she found her thoughts returning again and again to her family. Her dead family.

Pathetic, she scorned as she thought about her futile efforts to focus her attention, mentally shaking herself. I am utterly pathetic. The captain deserves better effort than this. We cannot afford weaknesses of any kind. I am a warrior - I refuse to give into my weakness.

Now she was on duty again. "Captain, we're nearing the Argus system," Sh'mg announced into the commlink from the bridge. "You had requested that once we reached this location that you be notified."

"Notification understood, First," the reply crackled from the link. "Inform me when we achieve standard orbit around Argus VI. Use Proteus on our approach and standardize our orbit - then report to the shuttle bay with the rest of the ground crew."

"Yes, sir," the First said immediately.

"Out." The captain disconnected the link.

Sh'mg turned to the navigator and said, "Plot a course to the identified planet, Argus VI, using these coordinates. Once there, enter into a standard orbit."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sh'mg sat down in the captain's chair behind the navigator and sent the data from her screen. "Initialize the Proteus device for use," she said to the engineer.

"Yes, ma'am," replied the engineer from his post. His thick, rocklike fingers flew over his console, tapping out a complicated pattern, one that appeared to be replicated on the outside of his helmet.

The First watched the engineer impassively as he concentrated on the task at hand.

"We've received a hail, sir, on general channels - from the Tempest, out of Sol system, planet Earth."

"Yes, they're expected," the officer on duty said, looking at the display. "Right on time, as well. Anxious, I expect. Acknowledge them, and instruct them to berth at Port City 4."

"Aye, sir," confirmed the cadet, not allowing his eyes to wander off his screens. "Acknowledging hail, sir, with instructions to berth at Port City 4."

The officer shook his head slightly, and went back to his own screen, murmuring, "Carry on," to the cadet, who was furiously transmitting data to the incoming ship. Changing data links, the officer continued to monitor the rest of the bridge consoles, seeing the traffic moving about the port. A small yellow light started flashing in the lower left-hand corner of his screen, small enough not to attract too much attention, but placed so that anyone at that terminal would be able to see it immediately.

Casually switching the terminal to a new frequency, the officer said to the room at large, "Carry on - Mr. Kingst will have the comm while I am out on business. For approximately 2 standard hours, all right, Mr. Kingst?"

"Yes, sir," the comm ops officer said, moving from his terminal to the command link terminal. As the officer walked out of the control room, he could hear his first saying, "Cadet, switch frequencies to..."

The officer briskly strode down the corridor toward the bank of offices at the end, nodding to the people he saw in the passageway. As he moved to the reception area, he turned a brilliant, insincere smile toward the woman behind the desk, knowing the effect his craggy good looks and perfect teeth had on her.

"Is General Trisk in?" he inquired pleasantly. "And if he is, may I see him for a few minutes? Nothing urgent, but something has come up..."

"One moment please, Lieutenant," she said, smiling at him. She walked over to the office door, knocked softly and went into the room. After a few moments, she reappeared, smiling. "Please go in, Lieutenant," she said, lowering her eyes as he walked into the room.

Heh ... so easy, he thought as he swept by her and walked into the office.

A large, portly man was seated in a gray office behind a modern metallic desk, idly flicking through several holographic screens. He glanced up when he heard the door close; his tan face wore a sly, calculating look. With a sigh, he rapidly closed the connections to several open screens, leaving only what appeared to be a docking manifest with a small yellow light flashing in its lower left hand corner.

"Good morning, General Trisk," the lieutenant greeted him, standing smartly at attention in front of the desk.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Grant," rumbled the general. "I see our friends have come to visit us again." He gestured at the small yellow light strobing on the screen. "Very wise of you to connect an identifier to that Proteus equipment we sold them last year. Otherwise, we'd have absolutely no idea when they decided to pay us a call."

"Thank you, sir," the lieutenant responded. "I wanted to see you in person to receive your orders regarding ...them."

The general gave him a measuring glance, and then looked over the manifest again. "I'm not sure exactly what ... our friends . want this time," he said, shaking his head. "The last several times they visited, I had at least a few hours' warning; this time, they're just showing up on our doorstep. Very strange."

"I'm sure that we will be able to satisfy their requests," the lieutenant replied smoothly. "We have quite a bit of the resource stockpiled already; it's simply a question of determining what type of mechanical items they require."

"Really?" the general snorted, looking at the lieutenant in disbelief. "So our only worry is what type of mechanical items they want? Grant, you are an absolute fool."

Grant's cold blue eyes narrowed and his thin mouth tightened as General Trisk curled his lip in disgust, aversion in every line of his corpulent body. "Those ... things ... are so alien that I can hardly stand to talk about them, let alone trade with them. The only reason we tolerate them is because they can pay. Otherwise," he said in a menacing tone, his jowls shaking, "I would have blasted them to the depths of space long ago. " He fastened his gaze on Grant. "How much inventory do we have on hand for them?"

Lieutenant Grant swallowed, becoming acutely aware of the sweat starting to trickle between his shoulder blades. "We have quite a bit of it here, and several stores of it placed at various sinks around the planet. If, that is, we require additional ... supplies."

"Good," the general murmured, calling up other manifests. "We have so much of this ... substance ... that it is stealing warehouse space from us. And I certainly don't want to make more if we don't have to. We only use slaves, but still.." He frowned, his small eyes squinting at the screens. "We must get in contact with the other statcomm systems to make sure they know our friends have arrived. And since you are the closest thing to an expert about the rocks as we have, I'm placing you in charge of resupplying them."

"Yes, sir," he said crisply, hiding his fear.

"As to other matters," the general said, shifting his bulk in his chair as his frown deepened to a scowl, "there's a new cruiser coming from the rim that's been announcing its position every few hours. It's incredibly annoying. It can only be that delegation from the new planet, Earth."

"Sir?"

The general made a crude gesture and said dismissively, "Feh! One of the 'bright Newbie' races that's been in the Alliance for all of about 15 standard minutes - they think they know everything about the galaxy and how it works. Feh! Arrogant fools!" The general smiled then, a cruel, malevolent twist of his lips and said, "They are coming to speak to us about trade routes, the Alliance, how to stay out of the way of the Federation - all of it. Mostly, they will be spending time with our 'protocol representatives' and visiting some of the manufacturing facilities to look at our new hydronic drives."

Lieutenant Grant sketched a smile at the mention of the drives, as he had 'liberated' the plans to that particular drive from an extremely reluctant client. Fortunately, they had been able to replicate most of the machine, and the parts that they could not reproduce they simply omitted. Their own engineers continued to work on the plans.

The general continued, his slitted eyes glittering in his face. "However, our intelligence tells us that they actually seem to have something of value on that ship - a prototype of a portable time machine. Apparently, they still have to work the bugs out of it - but once they do..."

That sounds interesting, Grant thought. Aloud, he offered, "Perhaps we may be afforded a look at the equipment, especially as we need to assist them with protocol and the like when disembarking."

"We will see," the general said, nodding at his lieutenant. "I'm sure that you will be needed to act as liaison for the Argarians. In fact," he said decisively, "I'm putting you in charge of the "welcoming team" for these people. Make sure they are comfortable, well fed, and kept away from our security areas during their stay. You know the drill."

"Yes, sir," replied the lieutenant. "Thank you, sir."

"Understand that this doesn't mean that you can't meet our other clients when they decide to come in," the general continued, giving him a sideways glance. "You simply have a bit more to do."

"I understand completely, sir," the lieutenant said, nodding, "and I assure you, I will find out anything and everything that we need to know about those people from Earth and their technology."

"Yes, I'm sure you will," nodded the general, closing his eyes.

The small craft appeared out of nowhere, aimlessly rolling in the upper atmosphere of Argus VI, its destination uncertain. Apparently, orientation was not something that bothered the inhabitants of the craft, as the bottom, top and sides were presented to the ground in equal measure as it roiled in the air currents.

Argarian ground tracking devices picked up an unidentified object moving quickly in their upper atmosphere and transmitted the information to the main center near the Alerian Sink, in Port City 4. A small blip appeared on the main technician's screen, marking the object's telemetry in small yellow gliphs. The technician glanced at it once and called up an identification program simultaneously, keying in the information while thinking about how long he was going to sleep after going off duty; he had, after all, been pulling double shifts ever since those other people from his unit had been transferred. Barely keeping his eyes open, he stared at the results of the identification program -- 'No matches available' -- and groaned.

This is stupid, he thought to himself, this is probably just some decaying, rotting space junk that decided to take a dive during my duty. Taking a quick look around, he noticed that most of the other techs were either on break or absorbed with the data at their own terminals.

I am not wasting my time following this - this thing, he thought, rebelling, someone else can do it later. He took another quick look around, and swiftly typed "Anomaly - probable satellite decay" next to the telemetry path, noted the date and time, saved and logged the comments and closed the identification program. That's enough of that, he thought, yawning and stretching in his chair, immediately forgetting the incident.

Still gliding through the air, the ship slid smoothly from one current to the next, continuing its torturous rolls and turns. It continued on its erratic flight path for several more moments; however, it did appear that the craft had finally decided where it was interested in going and what part of the ship was going to be considered 'up.' Had the technician still been monitoring its route, the final destination of the "space junk" would have surprised, even alarmed him. The ship was on course for the heart of the Alerian Sink, one of the most notorious and best-kept secrets of Argus VI.

The front guard looks impressive, thought Lieutenant Grant. That should make them think a bit. He stood at the head of the guard, next to the guard captain, waiting for the new arrivals to disembark. Several Argarian diplomats were waiting on the tarmac with him, their long, gray tunics blowing gently in the hot breeze.

They would have to arrive on one of the hottest days of the year, Grant thought cynically. The heat was coming off of the tarmac in a visible shimmer, reducing distant objects to blurs. I hope they get out here soon, he grumbled to himself, feeling beads of perspiration trickle down the side of his face, or else they'll have to pry the soles of our boots off the macadam.

He was uncomfortably hot. As he looked at the diplomats, he had a fleeting envy of their long, loose tunics with open collars. Military protocol what it was, the forces were required to wear their dress uniforms whenever they greeted any dignitaries from outside their system. He pulled his eyes away from the diplomats and fastened them on the closed door of the cruiser that had landed approximately twenty standard minutes ago.

Where are they? he wondered, impatient.

Just as he thought he would have to approach the craft and actually knock, the door swung slowly outward. The first people out of the craft looked positively strange to him; they were all quite physically impressive, but had little or no armor on to speak of, wore strange looking jumpsuits, and carried no weapons. Four of them flanked what appeared to be a small knot of civilians, diplomats by their dress. Other people were disembarking as well, among them an alien the likes of which he had never seen before - tall, green, and wearing an expression that warned most away. He shuddered, hoping he would not have to deal with that one.

He put on his best face and marched with the Argarian representatives to meet them. He had the feeling as he was walking toward the delegation that he was being sized up, and just as quickly dismissed. He brushed his sidearm with his fingertips as he walked toward the cruiser and felt reassured. No one on any of the Argarian planets was faster than Grant with a light pistol, and he had never met his match outside his system, either. His back straightened imperceptibly.

Vejiita, Gokuu, Gohan and Trunks were standing next to their representatives, watching the Argarian forces carefully, with Piccolo and Kuririn standing behind them. As the diplomats exchanged pleasantries, the warriors looked at the force surrounding the entrance to the city.

All young, all weak, Vejiita thought, telepathically communicating with Gokuu. Look at them - not an interesting power among them.

But Vejiita, Gokuu sent back, maybe they just aren't showing us what they can do...

Vejiita turned weary eyes on Gokuu. Baka, he thought impatiently, if there's no power here, then there's no power on the planet. We would see at least a small amount of what they have. Use your head!

He turned his dark gaze on the uniformed man with the Argarian diplomats, raking over his power potential. Feh, he thought, nothing but boasting. Give me ten seconds with this one, and then we'll see how strong he is.

Grant met his gaze, and felt an immediate challenge. He knew that Vejiita was not like the members of the delegation at all; and as a matter of fact, he had a crawly, uneasy feeling about all of the people who looked like this short, muscular man in the jumpsuit. There was something about him that was positively feral; he felt as though a large predator was stalking him, just biding its time.

He found himself wondering whether this man and his companions were the delegation's only protection - they certainly acted that way, and from their demeanor he could well believe they were.

They certainly aren't human, he thought, they're too - too unusual. He brushed his gun again with his fingertips, giving himself a little more reassurance. Looking back surreptitiously at his complement of troops, he saw that the guard captain and several of the other ranking soldiers were having the same reaction as he - they were all nervously fingering their gun holsters, albeit standing at attention. He made a mental note to discuss this with the general. An entire platoon of men being unnerved by one alien wasn't good for morale - something would have to be done.

Vejiita smiled at Grant; one side of his mouth quirked up as his eyebrows drew together over his glittering black eyes.

Grant suppressed a shudder as he quickly looked away.

Earth's negotiators and delegates were being ushered into the coolness of the surrounding buildings by the Argarian cadre. The Earth's technical crew, the warriors, and finally a few crewmembers carrying small equipment satchels followed them. Dr. Briefs and Bulma decided to leave the bulk of their equipment on the spacecraft, including the dismantled portable time generator. Surprisingly enough, both the engineers and the senshi agreed that the spacecraft was the most defensible position available to them, and that it made sense to leave the equipment right where it was.

Trunks walked next to his mother and grandfather as they followed the diplomats across the tarmac and into the building, his head down and his lavender hair falling in his eyes. He was silent as usual, but all of a sudden felt something odd, almost electric, in the air.

It reminds me of that time on the ship, when we were sparring, he thought, perplexed, but.. . the feeling's different somehow ... not as strong ... diffused ... He turned to speak to his mother, but the instant his gaze fell on Vejiita's scowling features he thought better of it and closed his mouth. Later, he thought to himself.

Vejiita felt that charged, electric sensation at the same time his son noticed it, but recognized it immediately as the same power from the ship. His head swiveled around sharply as he scanned the assembled people for the hint of a familiar face, the flash of an expression. The identification of the power remained tantalizingly out of reach.

Where - where is it? His muscles moving smoothly as though he was hunting prey, the Saiyan pushed his senses to pinpoint the power's source, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The weakness of the signal, though, made it impossible to determine exactly where it was.

But it's here - and so's the one controlling it. He growled a deep sound in the back of his throat, startling some of the members of the diplomatic party. The chief negotiator looked over his shoulder at him and swallowed, his eyes growing larger.

Baka, he thought irritably and glared at the little man. The negotiator gasped, turned his head and lost himself in the crowd of people in front of the senshi as he quickened his stride.

A wash of uncontrollable emotions suddenly cascaded into his mind, feelings that momentarily overwhelmed him. His chest felt tight as he pushed himself to calmness and clarity, reasserting his iron fist over his feelings.

I will find you, he vowed, forcibly submerging those emotions in his consciousness. You can't hide from me forever.

"They've all landed," said Stranna to Meryth as they relaxed in front of Yisador's fire. Stranna was holding a new palmboard, peering at the readouts.

"What're the probability matrices looking like now?" Meryth asked, craning her neck to see the readouts.

"Not very good," Stranna said gloomily to Meryth, punching buttons. "I don't dare try to capture anything else to examine it because of ... well, because of what happened the last time. You know." Meryth nodded as Stranna shivered. "I've never experienced anything like - well, anyway - I can't capture anything in that time stream now, and neither can anyone else." She sighed, staring at the palmboard. "I HATE sitting here and not being able to do anything to help her, Meryth. I just know what's going to happen -"

"No, you just know what's probably going to happen," Meryth corrected her, "but I know what you mean."

"We can only wait and watch, and wait, and watch," Stranna said, sounding angry. "It's absolutely galling. I'm going to find a way around that probability matrix, and when I do ..."

"... then we're all going to go to Argus VI with you to save Theo," Meryth finished for her, wearily closing her eyes and leaning back against the cushions of the couch. "But you'd better make it soon, Stranna. These events are converging now, rather than later - and no amount of time travel's going to help that."

Looking at her old friend, Stranna snorted softly and muttered, "I know, I know... but not to worry. We'll be leaving sooner than you think, Meryth. Sooner than you think."