Contradicting Mission

Part 16

"Saiya-jin?" Joru Le'Armont asked.

Henning reread the information he had downloaded from the Aeesu-jin archives onto his hand-held computer, "According to this, that's exactly what that boy, Son Gohan, is. A Saiya-jin. At least he fits the desctription. Look at this; black hair, often described as 'wild.' Dark eyes. Pale, peachish skin colour. A natural knack for fighting. Sounding familiar? And of coarse, there's the unique tail."

"Unique tail?" Joru asked skeptically.

Henning pointed across the room at an Aeesu-jin, working hard to find more information for the Tahch-jin brothers, "See how thick and long that guy's tail is? It's nothing but solid muscle, built to inflict incredible damage with a single hit. Even though I can kill an Aeesu-jin, I would probably be killed if I got whacked with one of those. Aeesu-jin aren't the only species with tails, though. There are many others, but all of them are pretty similar. Hard and strong, solid and potent, a creature's tail is his greatest weapon if he uses it right."

Joru nodded.

Henning punching buttons on his computer until he brought up a picture of Son Gohan attacking an Aeesu-jin. The view was from the back, and as the boy was in mid-air, his tail was straight out behind him, "Saiya-jin tails, however, are completely different."

Joru didn't have to be told. A thin, furry brown tail was almost cute compaired to the huge Aeesu-jin's.

"Not just in appearance, though," Henning said, probably reading Joru's mind if such a talent existed, "Saiya-jin's tails aren't meant to be used in battle. According to this data, their tails actually put them at a disadvantage."

"Well, they certainly don't look like weapons," Joru agreed.

"I said forget appearances. It's their function that interests me. Aeesu-jin tails are supported by heavy, dense bones and compact muscles, lined with thick skin to protect them from incredible impacts. Saiya-jin tails, however, don't even have real bones; their supported by durable cartilage surrounded by highly sensitive nerve cells. Every pour has at least six springy hairs growing from it, making them incredibly padded."

"They sound worthless," Joru said, studying the picture of Gohan, "So, what? They get in the way when the Saiya-jins try to fight?"

"What?" Henning looked at his brother in confusion.

"Well," Joru said, poiting at Gohan's tail in the picture, "You said they were a disadvantage. Do they just flop around behind them, getting caught on things?"

"Absolutely not," Henning bawked, "You were an eye-witness of a Saiya-jin's fighting skills, did his tail look like it just 'flopped around behind them'?"

"Brother, you know I don't know a thing about fighting, and I don't make a point to watch for fighting techniques," Joru huffed, his hands clasped behind his back so Henning wouldn't see his bare knuckles, "Why don't you tell me, then. What's so disadvantageous about a Saiya-jin's tail?"

Henning tapped at his computer, drawing up a second screen; this one filled with three pictures. One was a full-bodied view of a Saiya-jin's nervious system, the second was an x-ray of the bones in a Saiya-jin's tail, and the third was a scientific replication of what the nerves in a Saiya-jin's tail would look like. He handed the three-part image to Joru as he spoke.

"A Saiya-jin's tail has an astronomical amount of nerves; making it the most sensitive part of their entire body. These nerves, however, don't run directly to the brain like other nerves do. In fact, every millimeter of the tail is connected, through the spine, to some other part of the body."

"You mean that their fingers and toes and ears and noses-"

"-are all connected to the tail as well as the brain. Yes."

"Whatever for?" Joru asked as he brought his face down closer to the image to compare.

"Isn't it obvious?" Henning said, "Tails are used by all beings to help support and balance them. Using cartilage instead of bone, Saiya-jin tails have incredible flexibility. I'll try to explain this so you can understand." Henning lifted his hand into the air, one finger pointing at the cealing, "By lifting just one finger, my entire body has to adjust its weight to compensate for the action, of course it's so minor of a movement I'm not aware of it. But can you imagine by raising your finger, instead of having to use your entire body's weight to compensate, it sends a signals down to the tail--without even bothering the brain--and the tail does the adjustment for you? Of coarse it can't adjust to major off-balances, but without having to clutter the mind with so many automatic impulses there is more room in the brain for other things. That is one of the reasons Saiya-jin are noted for being able to react so swiftly to even the most spontaneous circumstances."

"Incredible," Joru breathed, "How could such a thing have a down side?"

Henning tapped the enlarged image of the nerves in a Saiya-jin's tail, "Because though the rest of the body benefits from the added control and balance, it must, unfortunatly, result in the tail being extremely sensitive. Though the coarse hair does a good job protecting it from any particular bumps or jarrs, a certain amount of pressure added to the tail can send a signal to every part of the body to stop moving, resulting in absolute paralysis."

Joru opened his mouth in wonder, "So anyone could beat a Saiya-jin if they just get ahold of their tail?"

"Not necessarily," Henning said, "It does take a certain amount of strength to totally paralize a Saiya-jin. A weak species of alien can't grab hold of a strong Saiya-jin's tail and expect him to collaps. It would probably irritate the Saiya-jin, upset the sensitive hairs and perhaps cause pain, but there has to be at least enough power behind them to be able to hold onto the tail hard enough to mash the nerves together and scramble the signals running through from the other extremities."

Joru shook his head in amazement, "I suppose where there's an advantage, there's also a risk."

Henning grinned, "You're starting to sound like me."

It was a strange parade. Walking in the forefront was Freeza, only his waist and down visible under the emense shape of the good doctor who he carried on his back. Even then, half of the Aeesu-jin doctor's body--his legs and tail--dragged along the tiles. Behind Freeza walked Bojack, who was carrying a very unmoving Son Gohan by the back of his gi with one hand, his other hand holding tightly onto his tail.

"You still under there?" Bojack asked mirthfully. He was in a relatively good mood.

Beneath the bulk of the doctor's dead weight Freeza responded, "Shup up, this is ridiculious. I'm not carrying him anymore; we already saved his sorry life by getting him out of there, we don't own him anything."

"Is he even alive?"

Freeza looked around for a suitable place to dump the doctor as he responded, "He's been breathing down my back since I picked him up, so yes, he's alive."

Bojack shook Gohan, making his arms and legs sway back and forth beneath him, "Hear that, bozu? Your doctor friend isn't even dead."

Gohan, of course, was unable to respond, though something akin to comprehention crossed his heavily-lidded eyes.

Freeza approached the next door he came across. It was an Aeesu-jin residency, the Aeesu-jin that lived there was probably not home from work yet.

"This should do it," the Freeza said, hitting the door-open command, "He'll probably wake up in an hour or so. Then he'll be on his own."

With that, he dumped the unconscious Aeesu-jin into the empty complex; with a swish of the door, the doctor was enveloped within and gone from sight. Freeza dusted his hands together in a 'my work is done' type manner.

"You can let the kid go, now," Freeza said.

Bojack raised his eyebrows for a second, saying, "Oh, I suppose I could. I almost forgot I had him."

He lifted the boy higher into the air, in a silent 'should I, or shouldn't I' position, looked down at Freeza for a moment, then unceremoniously dropped him.

Gohan tumbled onto his stomach, for a second still unable to move. He wasn't aware of much at first, he was breathing heavily, and under his gi he could feel twitchings and tremblings as he regained control; his entire body tingled as though it had fallen asleep. But he could feel himself breathing again. He could feel his aching chest heave in and out deeply, filling his lungs with as much air as they could, then releasing it slowly. The pain in his ribs--piercing and sharp--was almost welcomable. It made him feel real.

But just as he felt like he was okay again, emotion returned to him. All the anger and hatred and rage he had felt toward Heng boiled up from wherever it had retreated to with as much intensity as it had originally. But his target was now missing. He had been aware enough to know he was no longer in Heng's warped heaven, and he had been aware enough to semi-hear that the doctor was indeed alive, but for whatever reliefs these facts were to him, rage remained. Hot and sharp, like a blade of fire.

He was at bloody war with himself. His rage wanted to explode and destroy, to find someone on which he could inflict his rightious anger..... His reasoning, a hardly audible voice compared to the deafening roar of his anger, was trying its hardest to keep him controlled. In the end, it was a tie, and he lay , propped up on his elbows, his fists clentched in an attempt to over-come himself.

"Come on, bozu. Move your ass. Let's go," Bojack's voice said somewhere above him. Gohan squeezed his eyes shut, trying harder than ever to keep himself controlled. He didn't want to look at Bojack right now. The Biraju-jin had crossed a line, one Gohan had constructed to keep himself feeling safe enough to concentrate on the problem at hand. Now, however, it was gone. Even to Gohan it wasn't hard to imagine who he would attack if his anger got the better of him.

"I said get up," Bojack said, and Gohan could feel the Biraju-jin begin to approach him.

The boy's power was begining to peak as he faught to contol it. His chi fluxed out around him, the floor caved in as he flew upward to land on his feet. The pain in his ribs was weighing heavily against him, and as his feet landed softly on the floor, he had to wrap his arms around his side to keep from crying out. But he was up. He was standing.

"'Bout time," the Biraju-jin said gruffly, "I hope you weren't thinking I would carry you all the way home. C'mon already, let's go." With that, he turned and started to walk away, Freeza following his lead.

Gohan didn't move. Standing with his head down, his hair cast over his eyes, he didn't seem to have heard Bojack. He didn't trust himself to move. He was trembling, everything from the back of his neck, down his powerful little arms, to his clentched fists. Trembling. Shaking. Barely under contol. His face was almost blank as he stared at something between the tiles and his eyes. No thought would stay in his head, as his entire mental power was going into trying to control himself.

Bojack paused, looked back over his shoulder, "You hear me, kid? I said-"

"Just," Gohan said through gritted teeth, "Just stop talking." Tight fists. His eyes were closed so hard they hurt. He wished Bojack would shut up. Every time he heard that deep voice, his rage elevated another two notches. Didn't Bojack know he was trying to save his life?

It wasn't an ego thing. Gohan didn't automatically assume that he could kill anyone with a small increase of rage. It was the possiblity that he could. The possibility that he would lose control of himself. He was afraid that he would accidentally kill someone in a fit of rage and forever after have their death as yet another number on his body count. He had already killed Bojack once. To do it twice was just not an option Gohan really liked considering. It just couldn't be healthy.

However, something cold and wild in the back of his mind was wondering why he was even trying to restrain himself. Bojack had just humiliated him. Perhaps to an extent more than anyone ever had. Why not just let go? Tear a strip out of Bojack, maybe hurt him badly, maybe kill him. Punish him.... On a more primal need, where 'punish' and 'revenge' had no meaning, he just wanted to hit something.

Perhaps his pacifist side could have won if things had remained quiet, and he could think. His conscious brain was almost always calm and rational, and it could very well have worn away at and abated his stewing emotions.

He could have, anyway, if Bojack hadn't chosen that moment to turn around and approach him, closing the distance between him and the boy in seven purposeful steps.

It was strange. Gohan didn't really hear the sound of his footsteps. All he heard was an irritating buzzing sound in his ears, then, all too clearly: "Bozu, I don't think you-"

"Kyaaa!" Raging against the buzzing in his ears, Gohan's fist lashed out.

The buzzing stopped. Sound stopped. The world stopped. And Gohan's fist stopped. Stopped right in Bojack's large, sinewy hand. His anger hadn't even been enough to break through the Biraju-jin's first line of defenses, just as he hadn't been able to out-fly him back with Heng. Unable to attain his Super Saiya-jin form, he just didn't have the power needed to damage Bojack. He just didn't have enough.

But now that he had started, damned if he was going to try to get control of himself. By lashing out once, it was like opening a flood gate through which his rage seemed to burst from, scortching. He was attacking, now. His fists were lightening, darting, swerving, all targeted at causing some damage. Any damage. It was, perhaps, one of the least successful assualts he had ever launched. Nothing got through.

It had surprised Bojack. Hadn't caught him off guard, but it definatly surprised him. He caught the boy's fists, flailing out of control in a way that looked almost ameture, sloppy, if it weren't for the potency behind each hit. He didn't dare let the kid break through his defenses. Having to be concerned about being injured by a mere boy, however, began to raise Bojack's own anger. Feeding further to his anger, he suddenly remembered it was this boy who had killed him. Strange, but all this time he had almost forgotten. Now he was more than just mad, and as he caught the boy's fifty-eighth blazing punch he realized enough was enough.

Bojack raised his large, blue hand and slapped Gohan across the face with his palm. Hard. And as his arm finished it's half-arc one way, he brought his hand back and slapped him again with his knuckles. Harder.

Gohan froze, his eyes wide. His anger fled from him as shock took its place and he took a slow step away from Bojack, one hand against his cheek. A thin ribbon of blood trailed down the corner of his mouth and dripped off his chin. He was speachless.

"What is your problem?" Bojack was saying, and the very fact that he wasn't yelling made him sound all the more dangerous, "I just saved your life back there, those Aeesu-jin would have eaten you alive. Is this how you always thank your saviors?"

Gohan was incapable of speach. His hand against his cheek, he could only stand in wide-eyed surprise. He heard everything Bojack said, but comprehention was not to be seen in his eyes.

Bojack added, "Next time you try anything like that with me, I won't go so easy on you. Remember, that Larkas guy only said I couldn't kill you. There's more than a thousand things I can think of that hurt, but don't involve killing. Attack me again and maybe I'll show you a few."

Finished, he turned and left Gohan standing there. As he passed Freeza--who had silently observed the whole thing--the Aeesu-jin tried to smile bemusedly at him, but the Biraju-jin's withering glare wilted his face back to neutrality. They two of them continued down the hall, this time not looking back to see if Gohan was following.

He wasn't. His tail hung limply behind him, the tip barely brushing the floor. His hand still against his cheek, the threat of Bojack's words sank in. That Larkas guy only said I couldn't kill you. Until that point, Gohan had just assumed he was untouchable. Had just assumed that Bojack and Freeza and Garlic couldn't touch him or they would die. He hadn't thought about it. There had always been more important things on his mind.

But now that he comprehended that this was important, he still couldn't think about it, because he couldn't really think about anything. His hand slowly slid down his cheek and off his face, smearing the blood at the corner of his mouth more than wiping it away. He blinked once, twice, tried to think of something that eluded him. The threat of Bojack was one he had no control of. Perhaps the reason he hadn't thought of it before was because there was nothing to think about. Nothing he could do about it. It was just a situation there was no way to avoid. Bojack had said "Next time you try anything like that with me, I won't go so easy on you." The only solution was to make sure there wasn't a next time. He had to keep better contol of himself. If he lost control and attacked Bojack again......he could end up being beaten severly. His ribs were already working against him; chances were if Bojack were to lay into him, he would have many broken bones to contend with. And he would be unable to fight back without his transformations.

He was remembering the first time he met Bojack, on Earth. And he rememered Bojack torturing him, taunting him even as he broke his ribs, until his father had broken the rules of Death to save him. A shiver ran down his back, and through his tail. His hairs stood on end and his arms were covered in goosebumps.

He was aware of the pain in his side, and as he thought of what Bojack might do to him this time, he doubled over, his arms wrapped around himself. It didn't help, and he counted his heartbeat to the throbbing that wracked him. The sides of his head hurt, too, in the places Bojack has struck him.

With a small moan that originated somewhere deep inside him, he began to walk, dragging his feet, back to Sunow's home. Back to Bojack, back to Freeza, back to Garlic. Back to a place he didn't want to be, but he had no where else to go. Back to the situation he didn't want or ask to be in. Back to business.

He tried to walk up-right, his shoulders back, so if anyone saw him, they wouldn't know he was hurt, but his face tightened by pain, and he knew he wasn't fooling anyone.

He wished he were home.

Henning's squad of twenty well-trained soldiers stood in two neat platoons. Their chests out, their hands clasped behind their back, they each looked as proud and confident as Henning was in them. Though both platoons consisted mainly of Aeesu-jin--recently recruited by indisputably loyal--there was also a number of other aliens, horned, scaley, some furry, each hand-picked by Henning from each planet he and his brother landed and studied on.

What his brother didn't understand about him, was that he was a collector of people, not of death. To put the two thoughts together, he was a collector of lives. He took them, each from their respected planet, and molded them. Shaped them to be what he wanted them to be. Some couldn't handle it, some could, some died during it, and some Henning broke until they lost sanity. It was after that, once Henning had lost interest in them, that he broke them, mind body and spirit, to see how long they could last until they were begging for death.

It fascinated him, watching the strength of body and will. Watching it crumble and watching it build up, for the love of life and freedom was what linked life together all across the universe. It was Hennings passion.

The men had already been briefed on their mission. They knew where they were going. They were just awaiting command to do so.

"Do it now, and remember, I want him alive. You can kill the others if the situation calls for it, but do not kill him."

"Sir!" All twenty men saluted and hastily, orderly, left the room, leaving it empty except for Henning.

He was remembering something said between him and Joru.

Brother, what do you see in this boy's eyes? Use only one word.

Life. I saw life.

A thrill of excitment. From the moment he heard the words come from his brother's lips, he was constantly plagued with a thrill of excitment. Life. The very object of his fascination, sparkling in the eyes of an odd boy that seemed to contradict himself. Henning's hands were trembling even now, he had had a hard time concealing his excitment from his brother.

Whenever Joru wanted to sink into his passion, all he had to do was lay hold of one of his stones. To touch and taste and expiriance them and their feelings and memories. Henning, unfortunatly, couldn't. He tried to avoid touching anything, for once he did, once he knew it's pain and feeling and memories, he wanted to destroy it, for every time he touched them he could feel their very life in every one of their molocules. There was no satisfation in destroying a rock. That was why he dealt with people. He could see the life in their eyes, and feel it in their bodies, and as he killed them with his own hands he could feel it leaving them to the music of their screams of agony.

He reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out something. It had been found in the wake of Son Gohan's daring escape from the Tahch-jin fortress; six black hairs. Hairs that had been burned off Gohan's head by an impotent attack from Joru. Henning held the hairs in his palm and leaned against a wall for support as he expirianced them. It was incredible, for by merely touching a hair it was like getting a glimps through a key-hole into Son Gohan himself. His pain and triumph, power and fear, pacifism and aggretion.

Beautiful and horrible, the life of a warrior who shouldn't be a warrior but excelled despite.

He wanted more than just a few hairs.

More than anything he had ever wanted before, he wanted Son Gohan.

To be continued........