Ascension, Part VII

Chapter 16

Preliminary Census Data

After one week of data gathering, response rates are strong across the Kingdom. Human participation is the highest among population groups. Beastman response is next highest, and we believe consistent with the estimates of their overall population.

Saiyan participation is more difficult to gauge. There is no single estimate that is widely agreed upon for the number of Saiyans in the kingdom, so there is no baseline to measure participation against. However, anecdotally, Saiyan participation in the census seems much lower than expected. A week remains in the initial phase of the census, and this trend may reverse itself.

General Bradley stood before the members of the Saiyan Affairs Committee with a grim look on his face. Behind him, the graphic on a chart being displayed on the wall told the story. The words “Saiyan Resistance Organizations” were in bold, with a bright red arrow pointing up below it. Next to the arrow was the number 40%.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be brief,” he said as soon as Parliamentarian Serrin sat down. Bell and the others were already in the room, waiting to hear the news. “We believe that the royal decree authorizing the census has had a radicalizing effect on Saiyans across the kingdom. We’ve seen new resistance organizations popping up, along with increased activity at known sites. Saiyans are learning combat techniques at an accelerated rate, and we believe that we’ve detected the first signs of coordination between various groups.”

“Are you sure these new groups aren’t a response to the increased levels of violence from human organizations such as NIght Watch and other paramilitary groups that have popped up over the last months?” Bell asked sharply.

“That is possible. We can’t rule anything out yet,” Bradley said. “But whatever the cause, the outcome is the same. Saiyans are preparing to fight, and in larger numbers than we’ve seen before.” 

Serrin tapped her pen on the table. “What can we do to head off any kind of uprising?” she asked.

“Our best bet would be to disrupt these early communications before they can form a coherent network. Strike at a few key resistance organizations and disband them. It wouldn’t take many resources, and by disrupting the critical nodes early, we can degrade the effectiveness of organizations across the kingdom without putting too many lives at risk.” 

Serrin nodded in approval, but Soot sat forward. “If we take out the leadership of this network, don’t we run the risk of seeing them replaced with even more radical groups that will respond to our attacks?” he asked.

“Not if we strike surgically and with overwhelming force,” the general said. “Our strategy would be to use ‘shock and awe’ in our campaign to such a degree that it would discourage other Saiyans, both as individuals and as organizations, from seeking to strike back. Production of new rifles and battle suits are continuing, and Dr. Rutab informs us that his project is proceeding well.”

“The only thing that Saiyans understand is strength,” Serrin said. “We need to show that we’re strong.” Bell laughed from the other side of the table. 

“All you’re going to do is provoke a bunch of Saiyans who don’t want to fight into feeling like they have no choice. We need to negotiate now, find some common ground with these people before things reach a point of no return.”

“Whatever strategy we choose, Bell is right that we need to make a decision soon. We believe that our best chance to disrupt these networks through negotiation or force will be in the upcoming three weeks before the next full moon,” Bradley said. 

“Give me a chance,” Bell said, standing up. “If there’s a way to calm this down, we have to try.” He turned towards Serrin. “I gave you my support on the census. You owe me this at least.”

Serrin sighed. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

“We know where some of these resistance camps are, right? So we presumably know who is in them as well. Give me the list. I’ll find someone to talk to, and then I can at least gauge what we’re up against.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Bradley said. “If we can avoid directly confronting combat-trained Saiyans, then I’m all for it.”

“You’ve got three days Bell,” Serrin said. 

“That’s all I’ll need.”

***

Reene was finally out of bed and shuffling around her apartment. It still hurt like hell to breathe, but she could feel that the bones in her chest had finally mended back together. It was the second time in as many weeks that she’d been knocked out cold during a fight, and where that would have angered her before, it was now a source of exhilaration. She’d gone beyond training and into true fighting, where there were no towels to throw in or exercises to end. Each time she stepped into a match, pride was at stake, both hers and her opponents. Every loss was an embarrassment that fueled her newfound drive for strength. All she wanted now was to heal, to get back into the fight.

It was her foot that was holding her back now. Jicama had not only broken her toes, but most of the bones in her foot beyond. They couldn’t risk taking her to the hospital and trying to explain away her injuries, so she was forced to drag around Jicama’s makeshift cast. It would take a couple more days of rest for those to be back to a usable state again. In the meantime, she was working from home, having told her editor that she was ill rather than the truth. He’d asked when Celer would be returning to work, and Reene lied again, saying that the boy was focusing on his studies for the time being. The pang she felt at not knowing where he was hurt much more than anything Jicama had done to her. 

A knock came at her door while she was boiling water on the stove. She sighed, annoyed. Hobbling across the apartment to shoo away some salesperson was not what she wanted to do. 

“Go away, I don’t want any!” she yelled as the water came to a boil. The knocking continued, growing more incessant. She turned towards the door, ready to knock out whoever stood between her and her oatmeal. She opened the door to see a short, bald man in a dark grey business suit and purple tie. His tail was unwrapped, a friendly gesture in this case. Behind him stood two large men in black suits, shades and earpieces,

“Parliamentarian Bell!” Reene gasped. She’d covered any number of famous and powerful people in her work as they crisscrossed West City, but it was the first time that anyone of stature had visited her home. “Please, come in.”

Bell nodded to the two men, who took up positions outside the front door on opposite sides as it closed. He stepped into Reene’s apartment, removing his shoes as a courtesy before sitting on her futon. “I hope those injuries aren’t too severe.”

Reene froze as she tried to make her way back to the stove. She turned to Bell, trying to determine if he was friend or foe.

“I got your address from your job, I told them that we had an important interview scheduled today,” he said. “But as I’m sure you’re aware, they’ve been watching you and your friends for a long time.”

“And who are ‘they’”? she asked, still making her determination.

“The people who see you and me as a threat based on our very existence,” he said. 

“Is that why you’re here? To warn me to cut it out or else?”

“No, I’m here to warn you about them,” he said. “Reene, we’re coming to a very dangerous point. These Saiyan explosions already had everyone on edge, and now Saiyans are convinced that this census is the first step to rounding up and shooting every Saiyan.” She started to correct him about the explosions, but thought better of it. The less he knew about what they were up to, the better.

“Well isn’t it? Despite what they’re saying, isn’t the entire point of the census to find out how many Saiyans there are?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it has to lead to something terrible,” Bell said. “Once we know how many Saiyans there are, we can organize. We can have real political power, and force humans to give us more rights.”

Reene was quiet for a moment. What Bell was saying made sense to her on some level. It was why she’d become a journalist in the first place, to bring the truth to her people so that they could act. She wanted to believe as deeply and sincerely as he did that something positive could come out of a list of names the government was putting together. But more than her doubt about the intentions of the Royal government, something else had replaced her hope in humans. Now, she had hope in herself.

“We’re already building power,” she replied. “More power than we’ve ever had. More power than they have. Soon we won’t have to beg them for scraps. We’ll be in position to demand what we want.”

“The humans will never allow you to get strong enough to truly threaten them,” he said.

“Who are they to allow us anything?” she asked in reply.

Bell stood up, and began pacing around the room. “Can you hear yourself? What do you think this line of thinking will lead to? What is the future going to be for any of us if we all decide to think this way?”

Reene stood as well, looking Bell in the eyes. “You just told me that the humans have already decided that we can’t be as strong as them. How do you think they’re going to try and stop us?”

“That’s why I’m here, don’t you see? To try to convince you to stand down before we pass the point of no return.”

Reene relaxed a little. She sat back down, placing her chin in her hands. “You think I don’t know what I’m saying, that I’m just some hotheaded Saiyan who’s looking for an excuse to fight,” she said quietly. “I know what all this means. Where it’s all headed towards. And no, I don’t want to reach this point. But let me ask you. Have you given this little speech of yours to the humans?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. They sent me here to talk to you.”

Reene sighed. “I’ll talk to my comrades. You keep your government dogs at bay for the moment.”

Bell nodded. “That’s all I want, is for people to talk. I’ll be in contact soon.” Bell waved, then let himself out of the apartment. He was silent until he reached his motorcade. One of his aides, a portly man with bushy eyebrows, was sitting in the car waiting for him.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

Bell’s face was taut. “Not as bad as I feared, but not as good as I hoped.”

***

The smell of fresh baked bread made Jicama’s mouth start to water. He was used to the heavy industrial fumes of their dojo. It had never occurred to him that a location like the basement of a bakery could also serve as a location for training. He admired the audacity of it though, and the cleverness. Hiding in plain sight, no one would think much of people coming and going after hours. Just deliveries for the next day of baking. 

He followed Arula closely, making sure not to stray. She had invited him and only him to accompany her to this place. She hadn’t told him where it was or what they would be doing there; with the disappearance of so many Saiyans, she said, she couldn’t risk telling him and then the unthinkable happening. As soon as they were within half a kilometer of the secret location though, Jicama could sense the gathering of strong energy signatures. Stronger than his, which was surprising, and some that even rivaled Arula, which frightened him as much as it made him eager to meet them. 

They stepped through a heavy metal door at the bottom of a stairway, entering a large gym. There were various workout machines and combat dummies dispersed throughout the room. About a dozen other Saiyans were interspersed between the equipment, all in various states of conversation. Jicama felt himself relax. There was no fighting going on. These people were so strong that even at rest, their power was unmistakable.

“Arula, so good to see you,” said a dark-skinned man. His hair was swept forward, with the sides of his head shaved. He wore two dangling earrings that had green globes at the bottom. His tail neatly wrapped around his waist, a strange auburn color that Jicama had never seen before.

“Spinacci, you look well,” she said, embracing him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve gotten a little stronger since last time we met.”

“Just a little,” he laughed. “Spincacci,” he said, extending his hand to Jicama. “I lead the East Side Saiyan Fight Club.”

“Jicama,” he said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, but now Jicama got a true sense of the man’s power. It was like nothing he had felt before, easily more than even Arula. Not only were there other Saiyans training, but these other Saiyans were even stronger than his group. Jicama marveled at just how many powerful warriors there might be in the city, and beyond.”

“I think you’re the last invited guest, so why don’t we get started?” Spinacci called the others into a circle that had been set up with chairs. Jicama observed the others. They were of all different shapes and sizes, men and women, tails and no tails. The one thing they all had in common, as far as he could tell, was that they were strong. “ You’re all here because you represent the leadership of your respective dojos. Let’s begin with some introductions. I’m Spinacci, as most of you know. To my right is Ginger, my second.”

“What’s a second?” Jicama whispered while the introductions continued.

“Old Saiyan battle teams used a very simple rank structure,” Arula explained. “The strongest member was the leader, called the First. Second strongest was the Second, and so forth.” Jicama nodded. He was surprised by who was the First and the Second in the different dojos. It was impossible to judge strength based on physical attributes alone.

“I’m Arula, First of the Capsule Corp. Training Dojo,” she said. “This is my Second, Jicama.” Jicama stood straight, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break out across his face. For all his bluster, there was no one in the world that Jicama respected more than Arula. He’d been her first student, taking him from the underground Saiyan cage fights in West City where they’d met. Back when he was still angry and directionless, a Saiyan who wanted to fight but who didn’t know why. That she now recognized him as a leader  in the dojo, and presented his strength to others as fact, was the proudest moment of his life.

“Welcome everyone,” Spinacci said. “We all know it’s not ideal for us to be together in one place for long, so let’s get to business. Things have become much more dangerous for Saiyans since the census was announced. Nightwatch is harassing citizens without reason, the disappearances are continuing, and our people are more afraid than ever that they may harm themselves with these explosions.

“And now we’re getting reports that royal forces are arming themselves with new types of anti-Saiyan weapons. There’s real concern that humans might be planning a preemptive strike against the dojos and training sites that they know about.”

“How many do they know about so far?” came a question from the group.

“So far, we suspect that eight of the sites represented here tonight are under surveillance. Who knows how many of the groups that didn’t show up tonight are also being targeted. But a safe rule of thumb is, if other Saiyans know about you, then humans do too,” Spinacci said.

“Are we absolutely sure the humans want to attack?” Arula asked. “One of my members recently spoke with someone in the government. They said there’s still time to talk.”

“Talk about what?” An extremely tall, ruddy complexioned man named Beets shouted. “They’re just trying to stall until they can finish the census, and then they’ll pick us off one by one while we sleep.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Parslianne, a woman with purple lipstick and scars crisscrossing her bare, folded arms. “They may just be stockpiling, anticipating us to attack them.”

“Is that why we’re here? To plan an attack on the humans?” someone else asked.

“We’re not attacking anyone,” Spinacci said firmly. “We’re just here to compare notes, and share information about what we’ve heard so far. If Arula said a government representative reached out to her dojo, then we need to at least hear what they have to say. Parslianne, any more info on the missing Saiyans?”

Parslianne shook her head. “My source says that they haven’t been able to determine where they’re being sent to. She only sees them as they pass through her location. So far we’ve got a count of 34 adults, and 17 children that they’ve seen with their own eyes.”

“Who is your source? And where do they work?” Beets asked.

“Now why would I tell you that, you big oaf. For you to get taken, or worse, get drunk, and tell everyone?”

“Are you accusing me of being a traitor?!” Beets shouted again.

“I’m just saying, loose lips sink ships,” she replied. Beets turned three shades of red brighter and his eyes bulged in his sockets with rage.

“Would you two stop flirting and get a room already,” Arula sighed. Both opened their mouths to protest, but Arula held her hand up to silence them. “Look, what we need is some more concrete information on what the human strategy is. We’re stuck assuming things. As unlikely as it is, all these Saiyan disappearances could be completely unrelated to each other. The humans could be arming for another dinosaur culling. We just don’t know, and until we have a better idea, we’re just grasping at straws regarding what we should do.”

“I have an idea about that.” Everyone turned, surprised to see that Jicama had spoken. No one was more surprised than Jicama himself, but he continued. “Why don’t we send in a spy? Someone who pretends to be on their side, that can get them to let their guard down and reveal what’s really going on?”

“Do you have someone in mind who could do this?” Spinacci asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do. A friend who has alot of time on his hands lately,” he said.

“Okay, so for now we hold until we have more information. Arula, you and your second are responsible for getting us a mole on the inside of the human government to figure out what they’re planning. Everyone else, continue your training exercises, and be on the lookout for surveillance. We’ll reconvene in two weeks, next time at your site Arula? All right, meeting adjourned.”

As much as Arula wanted to catch up with her old friends, she knew lingering was too much of a risk. She led Jicama quickly out of the basement, again being silent until the two were in her capsule car and well on their way back to their side of West City. 

“You were talking about Will back there, weren’t you?” Arula asked.

“He can pass for human, and he’s someone we can trust,” Jicama said.

“I’m proud of you for speaking up back there,” she said. “You didn’t allow the strength or the personalities of all those other Saiyans to intimidate you. And you showed initiative. You have the necessary skills to be a great leader someday. Just remember, don’t expect too much from people. It’s fine to give them your trust, if they earn it, but keep in mind that they’re more than simply what you think of them.”

Jicama wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, by that, but he nodded along anyway. “Thank you for giving me the position of Second. I won’t let you down.”

Arula chuckled. “I didn’t give you anything. You’ve been my best student since the day we met. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re almost as strong as I am. You’ve earned the right to call yourself Second.”

“I’ve always wondered. You’ve been my teacher for years now. Who was your teacher? How did you find out about all of this?”

Arula’s smile faded away. “His name was Kakarot, believe it or not. He wasn’t born with that name, but he took it on after he discovered the part of Son Gohan’s book that I shared with all of you.”

“It was his book?” 

Arula nodded. “He came across it in his parent’s attic when he was helping them clean it. He read it, and it completely changed him. I was their neighbor, just a dumb kid who was too nosy for her own good. I love books, like real, hardcover books with pages and ink, not the digital crap they give us on screens. I saw him reading it in their backyard one day, and walked right over and asked what it was. He showed me, and I became obsessed. He never set out to teach the ways of our people, but I became his first, and only student.”

“Where is he now?” Jicama asked.

She paused for a moment. “He’s dead,” she said finally. “Before you were even born, he was the first person I knew to rediscover the power of aura. He taught it to me. He wanted to be just like Kakarot, a brave warrior who always pushed himself to become stronger no matter what. Eventually he caught the attention of the Royal authorities, and you know the prohibition on training. He was arrested, and when they determined he was too strong to be kept in prison, they executed him.”

Even Jicama couldn’t believe that humans had been so cruel. “Why didn’t they capture you?”

Arula smiled again, sadly this time. “I was in school when they came. He never gave them my name. He protected me until the end, just like the real Kakarot. I promised him that I would pass on what I knew, to keep his teachings alive.” She turned and looked at Jicama. “And now I have.”

Jicama looked out into the night as they drove down the road. “And I will do the same.”

Chapter 17

The X-R60 Plasma Rifle is a 6th generation anti-Saiyan weapon system. It spent nearly 10 years on the drawing board, as the Nadine crystal structure required to focus such an enormous amount of energy in a handheld weapon was possible to fabricate, but prohibitively expensive. Advancements in Nadine crystal synthesis over the last two years have not only made the weapon design feasible, but also allowed for mass production to begin.

Due to the extremely tough nature of the Saiyan epidermis, plasma weapons must generate a large amount of energy to pierce their skin. Such high energy levels would lead the weapon to overheat and malfunction even before firing, requiring the constant release of heat energy during the firing process. Use of the X-R60 rifle should be restricted to personnel wearing protective, heat-resistant gear only.

–Manual, “The X-R60 Plasma Rifle and You”

“Our mission is to prepare young Saiyans to work, live and contribute to a society that is dominated by humans, for better or worse. Your behavior over the last few weeks has been extremely detrimental to that goal.”

The words played over and over in Will’s head as he rode the commuter train that connected the train station to the Grand Parliament building. He’d expected a severe reprimand from the school’s headmaster for his teachings about Saiyan history. Instead, he’d stood there dumbfounded as he held a letter of termination in his hand. Four years as a teacher at the school, thrown away by his exuberance to teach real history, no matter how ugly.

What was I thinking, Will asked himself for the milllionth time since that day. Of course the kids would be impressed by stories of violence and mayhem. He hadn’t expected them to take to the stories so readily though. It was as if hearing about the exploits, no matter how terrible, of their ancestors had filled a void in their understanding of themselves. It explained all the urges they had that humans told them were wrong. Will couldn’t help but understand their attraction to it– and why the school had acted so swiftly to stamp it out. All historical-based clothing was banned, on pain of expulsion. All teachers were required to submit their upcoming lesson plans by the end of the week. Will Decon was out, and most likely blacklisted from ever teaching again. He couldn’t believe it. Fired by Saiyans for being too Saiyan.

But his fascination with the old Saiyans had passed after a day or two, when he began to consider the true nature of their crimes. Not just war, not even just genocide. Something completely different, a concept that didn’t have a word because it was so unthinkable. The extermination of an entire planet. All sentient life, everywhere. No doubt, it took strong people to accomplish such a feat. Those people were beyond amoral though. No, in fact they had to have a moral code, one based on cruelty and inhumanity. He scoffed. Inhumanity. The idea that Saiyan nature is antithetical to the power structure is exactly what made it appealing to people who were tired of humans.

He was surprised then when Jicama of all people visited him at home, and asked him to take on this assignment. Reene was with him, her head bowed. She launched into her latest round of apologies before Jicama could get a word in. Will tried to deny it, but something had changed between them that day. He wanted to win the fight too, but not that bad. Not enough to strike at the very core of his opponent, who was really his friend. I suppose that’s the difference between being human and Saiyan, he thought. It was a line he didn’t want to cross.

And now they wanted him because he was human enough to seem like a traitor. What a joke. He’d almost said no, but refusing their request was tantamount to leaving the dojo. He may have been on the outs with the other members, but there was still so much he wanted to learn from Arula, one of the few people of either race who respected him. He also had questions for Serrin, and this was the best way to get some answers.

As he stepped off the train, he was met by two men in dark suits, shades and ear pieces. They escorted him directly to Serrin’s office without a word. She was seated behind a shaky plywood table to the left of her doorway instead of the large, ornate desk that sat in the middle of the room. Her reading glasses were halfway down her face, and she was thumbing through a pile of papers. She didn’t stand when he entered.

“Have a seat, Mr. Decon,” she said, barely looking up at him. Will took the rolling chair closest to him. Once he was seated, the two men exited the room and closed the door behind them. With them gone, Serrin sat up, removed her glasses and extended her hand to Will.

“My apologies Will,” she said with a broad smile. “I have a reputation of being a hardass with my staff. Keeps them on their toes. So, do you know why you’re here?”

I’m here to try and gather as much intel on you and your ilk for my comrades who probably don’t like me but will use me anyway, he thought. “Yes, I’m here to serve as a representative for my friends in our Saiyan history club, to try to build better understanding between us and human parliamentarians.

Serrin laughed. “‘Saiyan history club?’ Good one, Will. We know what you all have been up to, we’ve been watching you for months. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

“We know you’ve been watching. You’re not very subtle,” he replied.

“Well then, you know we could have brought the entire Royal army down on you at any time, and we haven’t. Do you know why?”

“Because you have no idea how strong we are, and while you could certainly kill all of us if you wanted to, you can’t be sure if we would take 10 or 10,000 soldiers with us.”

Serrin sat back in her chair. “What a cold way to describe preferring a peaceful solution to needless bloodshed,” she said. “Do you really think we want to sacrifice even one life, yours included?”

Will shrugged. “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

Serrin smiled again. “Speaking of, what did you find out from those data rods you stole from the library?”

The blood in Will’s veins turned ice cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on Will. You visit our library, and then a few short weeks later, dozens of data rods go missing from our secret facility? Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Almost as much of a coincidence as the fact that after we visited the library, one of my students went missing. Dozens of Saiyans have disappeared over the last year, and none of you politicians have made a peep about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated back to Will with a blank stare. They moved past their mutual lies.

“Will, I’m going to level with you. I think Saiyans are a threat, the greatest threat this planet has ever faced. Whether you’ve looked at the data on those rods or not is irrelevant, because I have. I know what Saiyans do. I know what Kakarot and Vegeta’s ancient mission was here. Not only do I think you know the history too, I think that you’ve also realized that Saiyans are a threat to everyone, themselves included.” 

Will stared at her without blinking. He couldn’t betray that the thought had occurred to him; that Jicama and Reene wanted to keep getting stronger and stronger, to fight more and more. That seemed like fun, until after Reene showed she could control her aura to essentially simulate a bomb exploding whenever she wanted. Maybe she would be responsible with that power, maybe not. But if she could learn it, any Saiyan could. Could any Saiyan be trusted with that kind of power? Or whatever lay beyond it?

Despite his efforts, Serrin saw a flicker of doubt flit across Will’s face, and she pounced. “We license guns. We license appliances. We prevent military grade equipment from reaching civilians. We take innumerable actions to keep all citizens of the kingdom safe. Yet Saiyans bodies themselves are weapons. I’m not blaming them, or hating them or saying that they’re evil. But look at my leg Will.” She rolled up her skirt just far enough for Will to see the discoloration, the place where her artificial leg was fused with what was left. “This happened to me from an accident. Can you imagine what would happen if a Saiyan tried to hurt others?”

Will wanted to say that no Saiyan would ever do that. He wanted to say that they just wanted to live their lives in peace and solitude like everyone else. But he couldn’t help but hear the awe and admiration in his student’s voices when he told them about the destruction of planet Plant, about how the Saiyans eradicated a whole people and turned that peaceful world into the violent, brutish hellhole known as planet Vegeta. Yes they were children and didn’t know any better. But how did their parents react when they went home and shared what they’d learned in school? Did they reject those ideas and chastise their children for being moved by such horror? Or did they sit them down and ask to be told more?

Serrin could see him wavering. There was no need to push him any further. “I don’t know what the solution is, Will. I promise you this though. We don’t want violence. We don’t want anyone to die. All we want is to find a way for us to peacefully coexist. Whatever we do to make that goal a reality will need to be done carefully, prudently, and with the utmost respect for life. Most importantly, we’re going to need help to do it. Take that message back to your people.”

Before Will could speak, the door opened again, and the two dark suited men stepped into the room and stood on either side of Will. He stood up slowly, silently, and followed the men out. Once she was sure that all three men were gone, Serrin went back to her desk and picked up her phone.

“Connect me to Bradley. Yes. Thank you. General? Yes, we just finished speaking. I think I’ll have that info you wanted very soon.”

***

“What do you, Piña?”

The two of them were sitting on the edge of the West City river, watching as the citylights reflected on the dark water. Practice was already over, and Piña had asked Reene to follow her to the nearby waterfront. It was surprisingly quiet, despite running straight through the industrial heart of the city. With the factories all shuttered for the evening, it was a peaceful place to talk.

Reene didn’t know much of anything about Piña. Will wouldn’t shut up, and Jicama had such an intensity that it demanded attention. Piña was just normal though, a cheerful but unobtrusive presence that was always on the periphery of Reene’s focus. On some level too, Reene had to admit, she resented Piña’s presence. She wanted to be the female of the group, not to attract mates, but as a way to distinguish herself. Sitting with her though, and seeing that she really was just a normal person, made her feel very silly for harboring that feeling.

“You mean for work? Oh nothing,” she demurred. “Actually, I work at a retail Capsule Corp. shop on the other side of the city. Remember that Saiyan explosion from earlier in the year? That was in front of my store.”

Reene remembered it well. It was that story that had made her realize that she was just the “Saiyan” reporter, and would be forced to cover every Saiyan story in the city. Which was what she had wanted to do, but it was different when she realized that’s all she would be allowed to do.

“It’s nothing fancy like you, or like what Will used to do.”

Reene shook her head. “Well, look at me and Will. I basically jump as high as they tell me at work, and Will got fired. So much for our fancy, human-approved jobs.”

“Do you…ever wish you were human?” Piña asked.

“I used to. All the time. I used to stand in front of the bathroom mirror with a pair of scissors, bracing myself to cut off my tail,” Reene said.

“What stopped you?”

“I was afraid it would hurt.” They both laughed.

“That’s what stopped me too,” Piña said. “That, and then having to explain why there was so much blood and fur on the floor. Now I’m glad I’m a Saiyan. It allowed me to meet all of you.”

Reene put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad I got to meet all of you as well.”

“But I didn’t call you here to reminisce about the good old days. I want to show you something. So far, I’ve only shown this to Jicama. While he’s been trying to perfect the armor sets, I’d wander off to some other part of the factory and practice this.”

Piña opened her hand and held it flat. Reene stared, expecting something to be there. She didn’t notice the tiny specks of blue light that were beginning to form in the center of Piña’s hand, not until they were about the size of a teardrop. It was a warbling, misshapen form, but it began spinning faster and faster, taking in more tiny specks of light. It was the size of a grape now, and Reene realized what she was looking at. Piña was holding pure energy in her hand, now the size of an apple. Reene was speechless. This was the power of their ancestors that had allowed them to raze worlds.

“How did you…” she started, unable to take her eyes off the glowing blue orb.

“I’ve always felt the flow of energy in and around me,” Piña said. “I thought it was ghosts or evil spirits, and I never told anyone because I didn’t want to be shunned. Reading the notes from the data rods finally helped me to understand what I was feeling. In some ways, it is spirits that I’m feeling, but not evil ones. I can feel the spirit energy of everyone around me. You and Jicama have managed to turn that into aura. I can do that as well, but I’ve managed to go one step beyond. To this.”

Reene held out her own hand. She gathered the energy inside herself, and directed it towards her hand. The hand lit up with aura, but try as she might, she couldn’t shape the energy she’d focused into a ball.

“Don’t try to force it,” Piña said. “It’s not about creating or controlling the energy. You have to direct it. The energy comes from both inside us and around us. The real key is to spin the energy. It develops its own gravity, drawing in more with centripetal force. The stronger your own power, the more you can draw in.”

“Spin the energy? How do you do that?”

“Practice,” Piña said. “Remember that everything spins. The earth on its axis, the earth around the sun, the seasons. Things change. We’re caught in a cycle. At the farthest point, when things seem the most unsure and the most frightening, we might feel lost. But the world keeps spinning, and life keeps spinning, and we end up right back where we started. Except different. We’re a little older, a little wiser. Still the same though.”

Reene took Piña’s words in. She’d never heard her sound so contemplative, or maybe she had, and in her arrogance she’d dismissed Piña’s deep thoughts as nothing more than silly aphorisms. In fact, Reene had to admit that she’d dismissed Piña in general, as nothing more than Jicama’s woman. It was bitter jealousy that clouded her judgment of her, presumed superiority because of class and education. Piña was a genius, a savant of understanding the flow of energy who intuited what she herself couldn’t even fathom. 

Piña let the energy in her hand stop spinning, and as it slowed, it began to unravel until it evaporated in a puff of blue sparks. “We’re at the end of a cycle now, Reene. This era is coming to an end. The energy of the world is tight, like a string being pulled to its limits. It’s going to break. When it does, and all that force explodes forth, whatever is left in the aftermath will be very different for us.” She turned and smiled at Reene. “But for the universe, that’s seen it all before, it will look exactly the same.”

Reene felt the energy in Piña’s body begin to rise, and she gasped as she began to levitate. She stumbled backwards, and Piña rose higher and higher, before shooting off into the inky sky above them, doing loops and barrel rolls as Reene laughed in amazement from below.

***

“Two more Saiyans were attacked in their homes yesterday,” Jicama said. “Nightwatch is kicking in doors over this census stuff. Anyone who hasn’t turned theirs in is likely to get a visit from them.”

He and the rest of the dojo were at Arula’s house again, meeting before their regular training session. They were there to hear Will’s report from his meeting with Parliamentarian Serrin. 

“Once the census is over, at least they won’t have reason to go after us anymore,” Will said.

“Are you excusing their behavior?”

“No of course not. I’m just saying that hopefully there’s an end in sight to all of this.”

“Well that depends,” Arula said, standing up and placing her hands on her hips. “What did Serrin say to you? Any clue of what they have planned next?”

Will hesitated for a moment. She hadn’t said anything concrete, but he’d left her office feeling uneasy about her attitude towards Saiyans. She definitely knew more about the disappearances than she was letting on. But was that enough to rile up her comrades over?

He shook his head. “All she said was the same old, about wanting a peaceful resolution.”

“Resolution to what? We haven’t done anything,” Reene asked.

Will shrugged. “She didn’t say.”

“So we’re right back where we were,” Jicama said, exasperated. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Piña said. “In her public statements and her conversation with Will, she keeps using conflict language. She wants resolution, not continued peace. It sounds like she thinks that we’re already fighting.”

“Aren’t we?” Will asked. “I mean, we’re breaking the law by training. Shouldn’t we be glad that they haven’t rounded us all up already? I think that shows their desire for peace is sincere.”

“Unless they’re waiting for the right opportunity to strike,” Jicama said.

Arula was quiet through it all. She paced back and forth for a moment before speaking. “I’ve been talking to some of the other dojo leaders, and they’re similarly divided. No one knows for sure what’s going to happen next. The general consensus is still to hold tight until our next group meeting. It’s going to be held at our dojo, so even though it’s technically a meeting only for Firsts and Seconds, I want you all to attend.” 

“Arula, it’s starting to feel like Saiyans all over the kingdom are starting to come together. We have some disagreements, but we’re talking to each other in a way I’ve never seen before,” Reene said. “Now we have direct communication between us and them, through Will and others who are trying to talk. What are we asking for from the humans?”

Arula folded her arms. “That’s the question, isn’t it? They’re afraid that we’re going to take over someday if we become too strong, so they’re going to keep tightening their grip on us. We want them to let us be what we want to be, whether its citizens or warriors, and that will encourage some of us to want more power. What we want seems to be opposed to each other, unless we can find some middle ground. That will be on the agenda for the next group meeting, coming up with some demands. Think of some reasonable things we can ask for. I’ll see you all at our next training session.”

Will was up and out of the house before Arula even finished speaking. He didn’t like that Arula had organized the dojo like a Saiyan battle team, and he hadn’t liked that Jicama had handed out Saiyan style armor at the beginning of their meeting. Reene and Piña were almost giddy as they put theirs on, and even Arula seemed excited by hers. They were essentially becoming a battle team. Most of all, he didn’t like that Arula had made Jicama the Second. Yes, he was obviously second in strength, but leadership was more about brains than brawn, he thought. In that area, Will knew he could run circles around Jicama.

As he walked angrily down the street, a black capsule vehicle pulled up alongside him. He ignored it at first, until it slowed to his speed and rolled its window down. In the low evening light, he could barely make out the outline of Serrin sitting in the back seat. 

“Why don’t you hop in, Mr. Decon?” she said. Will looked around quickly to make sure that none of his comrades were nearby, then he ducked into the vehicle.

“What do you want?” he asked brusquely. He wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“Just wondering how our message of peace was received by your peers,” she said, offering him a cold beverage. He pushed the glass away.

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

“I would, if I knew when they were holding these little meetings.”

“You sure seem to know when they end.”

“Your group does not speak for all Saiyans,” Serrin said. “Now, say I could attend a meeting where there were more Saiyan leaders gathered together, then I could get a more accurate reading on what the mood is in your community.”

Will knew what she was asking for. It was dangerous, and revealing such information would almost certainly ostracize him from the group. So be it, he thought. His comrades were preparing for war it seemed, and he had to do everything to prevent that. For their sakes, even if they didn’t realize it.

“I might be able to help you with that,” he said.