Untamed chapter 4

 The Hunted Becomes the Hunter

Vegeta’s head jerked upward as his eyes snapped open. Blinking for a few moments, he glared at the inside of his small pod. He couldn't tell exactly what had woken him out of the hibernation. Everything was apparently doing well; the computer worked normally and the pod was going to its destination. So why did he keep feeling like something was wrong?

That eerie, uncomfortable feeling had pursued him since he had arrived at the Ice Planet base. The mission hadn't been very harsh, so Vegeta hadn't gained more than a few superficial scratches to which even a recruit wouldn't pay a second thought. A cold shower, a quick meal and a few hours of rest in his bunker were all he needed - after he had presented his routine report, of course. Inwardly, he hoped that Zarbon was too busy now to receive his report and handed the task to any random officer at hand. That snobbish, blue-faced rascal had claimed to know everything about Saiyans, and even looked down on them, although he wasn’t the only one to do that. The three surviving Saiyans, Vegeta especially, were the target of the spite of everyone in Freeza’s quarters that were stronger than or as strong as them. And Zarbon, if possible, could be even harsher than the others, because his insults were more subtle and smarter, thus more difficult to put up with. Vegeta’s only comfort was to know that someday that he personally would put an end on all that.
To his surprise, however, as soon as the prince stepped out of the pod, he was greeted by a couple of soldiers that escorted him to the infirmary, where the doctor in charge told him to undress and step immediately into one of the regeneration tanks. "What’s that for? I’m fine..."  he started, but the doctor just insisted for him to do what he was told, they had orders for such.
Giving a shrug, Vegeta obeyed. A few minutes of relaxing wouldn’t do any harm, anyway. As soon as the liquid in the tank was above his head, a slow dizziness started overpowering his senses, surprising Vegeta slightly. Hmm...he hadn’t imagined he was so tired! Well, some rest wouldn’t do any harm at all...  
It probably took him just a few minutes, but it could have been hours as well.
Vegeta had just finished dressing and was about to leave the infirmary when he almost collided with the exact person he wished not to see that day.  Oh joy.
"Why such a hurry, Vegeta?" Zarbon asked, his eyes cold with disdain as always. "For all I know, you don’t have anything important to do."
"What do you want?" the prince spat, holding himself to not push the girly pansy out of his way.
"Master Freeza has assigned a new mission for you. You must go immediately to the planet Nutek. Your pod is waiting at Pier 8."

Vegeta received the news with a raise of his eyebrow.
"I just came back here and he sends me away without even wanting to listen my last report?" he asked with scornfulness "He must be really sick of my face!"
Zarbon frowned his beautiful forehead, his eyes narrowing with anger. But after a few seconds, his expression softened a bit, as if he remembered something pleasant.
"It’s not for us to question what the Great Freeza’s purposes are. Just go to Nutek and wait for further orders." He whirled on his heels, making his white cape fan with the movement, and then made a pause to glare upon his shoulder at the small Saiyan. “Perhaps if you respected your superiors, you would have more free time to rest."
Planet Nutek, Sector 40F. Vegeta shook his head mentally as he strode through the hallways. He had been to Nutek a couple of times. It belonged to a new system recently discovered by the scout parties. The immense planet was rich in varied natural resources and precious minerals, like lanthanum, and its inhabitants had advanced technology. For all those reasons, Freeza decided to spare the planet instead of having it cleaned and sold, like usual. Instead, he had sent the Ginyu Troops to terminate most of the population, and enslave the survivors -most of them scientists and technicians, so he could make good use of their knowledge; although Freeza insisted it was just his 'generosity'. “The same generosity he gave to me”, Vegeta mumbled to himself. That was just a contradiction. A bunch of suckers who let themselves be enslaved in order to have their pathetic lives spared didn’t deserve any pity, in his opinion.
He wondered why in hell he had been assigned to that place, out of all the planets in the universe. According to the latest reports he had overheard-most of the info in the quarters was obtained by gossip or overhearing-the planet was calm now, after the Ginyu team had suffocated the last remaining focuses of rebellion and just waited for permission to leave. Perhaps they were getting bored and had asked Freeza to send him, so they could have some poor sucker to torture by forcing him to watching their stupid choreographies... that would be very like them. Nah, that was silly. Freeza wouldn’t trouble himself by sending anyone for such a futile thing, as much as he spoiled the Ginyus. It was more probable that horned worm wanted Vegeta to do some bureaucratic service. The thought made the prince cringe inside. Freeza didn’t thrive only upon fear and torture to get submission from his subordinates, he had more subtle ways, too. Like humiliating a subordinate by assigning him tasks below his position; that was very like an Icejin.
But the main point, the one that intrigued him most, was why they had him wasting time in the regeneration tank, if they were so hurried for him to go. He wasn’t even seriously injured, and Freeza had never bothered himself with not sending a soldier to war because he wasn’t in perfect health.
Well, soon he would know. Nutek wasn’t that far.
As Vegeta cozened the best as he could into the small pod, he sent a brief message via scouter to Nappa about his mysterious new mission. His former bodyguard and nanny was as shocked as him, and also disappointed. So, their next reunion was cancelled? Vegeta just smirked as he reassured him. It was all right, they just would have to be patient and wait a little more before they met again, in order to keep working on their secret plan.
Thinking about these events now, Vegeta couldn’t remember anything after his talk with Nappa. Had he slept immediately after the transmission? Funny, he wasn’t supposed to have entered into the hibernation state so quickly, especially after having a good nap in the regeneration tank. Besides, the trip to Nutek wasn’t so long that it required hibernation.
Absently, he peered through the only window of his pod. Though it didn’t offer much in terms of vision, he was sure that wasn’t the Sector 40F, and a check at the communication screen and then at the holographic map confirmed that.  His eyes widened as the coordinates flickered before him at the small black screen. He couldn’t be further from his assigned destination, and in fact, the close-by unfamiliar sector didn’t even have numbers or letters to label it, being just acknowledged by the computer as 'unknown'.
"Blasted contraption." Vegeta mumbled behind clenched teeth, desperately wishing to believe that this malfunction was just accidental, though the little voice stinging in the back of his head was almost screaming now, "If I’ll get in trouble for arriving late in Nutek, I’ll kill the mechanic!" Angrily, he flicked the right coordinates to his destination. To his surprise, however, the computer flicked back to the former coordinates Vegeta had seen before. He tried again. Once again, those cursed numbers flickered back.
"Dammit!" Vegeta almost smashed his hand on the computer, restraining just because he was stuck out in space, and destroying the blasted thing would just put him in more trouble than he already was. No doubt it was a trap, and he had been foolish enough to fall into it. Now it was clear, the reason for that seemingly unnecessary time at the regeneration tank. Any competent technician would have time to program the computer in a short space of time while he was napping in the tank, and in a way that couldn’t be undone by anyone save another expert (and Vegeta certainly wasn’t). How in the universe could he be so naïve?
It didn’t take even half of his intelligence to figure out why. He always had been discreet about all the encounters and planning things, but he knew that Nappa and Radditz weren’t so careful. Everybody around them knew pretty well how much the three Saiyans hated Freeza. And nobody was very fond of the three or of Vegeta in particular anyway. Anyone could have tracked them down, or investigated until he found enough evidence to put Freeza on Vegeta’s neck.
The only thing surprising in all of this was the fact that Freeza had bothered with making such a sophisticated plan to get rid from him. It was not like the old worm. Forever, the prince always knew the unholy tortures that Freeza would make him go through if he had any suspicions that Vegeta was conspiring against him. In his nightmares, he frequently saw himself being dismembered limb by limb, ripped into pieces still alive, or burned slowly by the monster’s energy beam until he was reduced to a pile of ashes. Freeza loved taunting and making blood run. Nothing pleased him more than to break anyone foolish enough to resist against him and watch personally as his victim lost every last bit of hope. Perhaps there was a hidden camera somewhere in the ship, and Freeza would be now savoring his distress.
Well, obviously he wouldn’t be able to fix the damned contraption by himself. So let’s examine the other possibilities, he thought. He reached to his scouter, even though he was already skeptical about it. They wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble to send him to nowhere and still let him take a functional device he could use to call for aid.
As Vegeta expected, the scouter wasn’t working. Quickly, he took it off and opened it. The small, delicate engines and wires had been completely eaten away, leaving nothing but a kind of smelly ooze. ‘A pill. Very smart.'  His mouth twisted in a bitter grin.

'Pill' was slang for a very sophisticated article for spies. A small capsule of a special acid, it could be kept indefinitely in storage.  However, once taken from its container and in contact with oxygen, it took one hour for the acid to break the fragile coating of the pill and spread, destroying everything around it. A perfect weapon for murder or sabotage. If they had given him a broken scouter, there would always be the chance of Vegeta calling his companions and discovering the trick. Instead, they had slipped a pill in the scouter, so he could talk to Nappa without suspicion, before the scouter was 'knocked out'.
Rationally, he searched into his mind for any other way possible to run from his situation. Yet, as much as Vegeta tried to stay coldly calm, a hint of despair was slowly insinuating through his brain. Well, it was in their interest to keep him alive, at least for a while, since the ship hadn’t exploded yet or something. Probably, the ship was assigned to send him to any planet where he would be imprisoned, sold as a slave, or something similar. In that case, he could find a way of escaping. What he really feared was if the ship would be flying aimlessly until he was completely out of oxygen. A hint of fear flashed through his mind when this idea occurred to him. Anything but that!
As he scolded himself for having panicked so easily, one thing occurred to him. It was something he rarely used, but it was possible...
"Greetings, Vegeta", a familiar and very much hated voice interrupted his thoughts "Enjoying the trip?"
Vegeta looked down to see Freeza’s face on the communication screen.
"You’re late," Vegeta muttered behind clenched teeth.

**********  

  "Ugly, isn't he?" sneered a high-pitched, unpleasant voice that sent shrills up the spine of anyone who heard it. Not that Syrup could be called a beauty paragon - even by the standards of his race he wouldn't be considered pretty, with his brown skin marked by black dots and reptilian faces with four malevolent yellow eyes.
His two companions didn’t look much better, either. But the most remarkable things were not their appearances, or even the uniforms they were wearing. Any of them could be easily taken as a soldier of Freeza, because of their scouters and the trademark rubber armors. That was exactly the reason why they were dressed like that. Actually, neither of them nor the rest of their crew had the displeasure of meeting Freeza personally and none of them wished it. Like the Icejin, they were aliens who also lived off the natural sources and everything the inhabitants of other planets could produce, but they had their own independent life. Like a few species of insects that mimic the appearance of stronger predators in order to look more intimidating, these pirates used the fame of Freeza’s armies to terrify the inhabitants of the planets they attacked. Not that they didn’t have any power of their own, but their opponents’ instinctual resistance spared time and physical health.

Of course, the true Freeza knew about their existence, but those pirates were smart. It would be foolish to remain forever in the same place, waiting to someday be found and burst into a million particles, so they constantly moved from one planet to another, preferably unknown ones. The last move, however, hadn’t been exactly planned. It had been more emergence than anything. Everything was because their master had found the other two survivors of his own species. They were trouble, his companions had warned him, but the Master was stubborn.
A few scout parties had been sent in order to investigate the area, with both the purpose of searching for food and any intelligent forms of life living there, especially because their leader wanted to meet with them. None of the scouters were very enthused at such a task; to be honest, even to repair the damages the ship had suffered during their landing because of the storm looked more appealing.  Besides, the main interest had already been found. But at least those three scouters wouldn’t return empty-handed.

"He’ll look more presentable after a good cleansing." Beer, the leading scouter, said with a shrug. He was a burly, furred man with average height and auburn hair surrounding his bony face. “Though I’m happy I’m not going to be the one who’ll do that…"

"Even if the labs disinfect him completely, he’ll still be ugly. And trash. It’s not worth the trouble to take him to Master Turles. We should put him out of his misery right now."

"I don’t care about your opinions, Syrup. We’ll take him and Master Turles will decide if he’ll serve his purpose or not.”  Seeing that the conversation was over, Beer turned to look at his other companion, Garana. Garana was a tall, slender man with a conic head and lavender, wrinkled skin, though he was still young. He was crouched by the ailing man they had found minutes ago among the wreckage. Apparently, it was a native, and the fact that he was completely naked just reinforced that theory, although Garana had hesitantly said that his clothes could have been torn off by the waters. His ki was terribly low, and by now it was impossible to be sure if it was because of his current health state or because he was really weak - the fact was that they hadn’t even detected him with their scouters, and if Beer hadn’t tripped on him accidentally they would have taken him for a rotten piece of wood.

"So, how is he? Will he survive until we reach the ship?” the leader asked.

Garana turned his head to look at them, revealing a wrinkled face with a dark cave where his mouth was supposed to be, and his small eyes sunk in two circles of wrinkled skin.

"There’s a ninety-percent possibility, I’d say, if there aren’t any complications" Garana calculated. His voice was rough, but understandable. "I took out the water I could from his lungs and he’s still too cold, but his breathing is regular and his pulse strong. Still, we should take him to the ship as fast as possible."

"Why?" Beer asked.

Garana hesitated, looking at the fainted prisoner as he prepared to speak.
"I don’t like these cuts on his skin," he finally spoke, in a forceful tone, "they’re superficial, probably caused by the rocks and other things he collided with in the river, but they might cause some infections. He might have some internal lesions; maybe that’s why he hasn’t woken up right now."

"Or he might be pretending." Syrup sneered, "Let me help you with that." Stepping forward, he nudged the prisoner’s leg with the point of his boot. "Time to get up, sleeping ugly! We’re not going to carry you!" he raised up his foot to kick him, but a violent punch on his back sent him diving nose-first on the muddy ground.

"Do you think you’re really funny?" Beer growled “Who do you think is in charge in here? I want this specimen to get to the ship alive and in perfect condition. And if I say you’ll carry him on his back, you’ll do it!"

Syrup spat out the mud in his mouth before responding. His eyes glittered, as if he couldn’t believe the other had done such a thing to him.
"You didn’t need to do that." he hissed. "Can’t you stand a simple joke? I don’t give a damn if it was Absinth and not you who found the only star sphere in this little ball of shit..."
Pretending to be very busy examining the patient, Garana shook his head. That idiot, why he insisted babbling like that and getting more trouble, Garana didn’t know. They were wasting precious time with all his arguing.  Absently, he raised his fingers to his scouter. A sudden beep-beep and a flickering series of numbers on its only lens pulled him from his boredom.

"What the fuck...?" he blurted out, earning Beer’s attention. The furred leader raised his eyebrows interrogatively, his right hand still clutching Syrup’s collar.

"There’s something coming in this direction," Garana explained. "Three, no, four people..."

Releasing Syrup, Beer quickly checked his scouter, frowning at the new signs. The lizard alien he’d been holding fell on his butt, but quickly jumped back to his feet. Mumbling and brushing some mud from himself and his scouter, he was about to check the signals, too, but suddenly a loud uproar came from the sky, making the three look up.

"Look!" Syrup yelled, pointing at the sky. Far above, something crossed the skies at a high velocity. Despite the distance and velocity, they could clearly see that it was a spaceship, even though it was a very unusually-shaped one, with four spikes protruding from it as legs.

"That’s a Namekian spaceship," Beer said aloud as they watched the ship flying left and lower and lower, until it finally disappeared within the woods.

"But what the hell would Namekians want on this small planet?" Garana asked, dropping his jaw "They’re not exactly a traveling people."

"Maybe they’re tourists," Syrup offered.

"Or maybe they’re after the same thing as us. Can’t you see?" Beer growled. His two companions gasped simultaneously. Counting the four of them, there beeped a strong signal on the scouters that all of them already knew well. And it signaled not only one, but...

"Three spheres?" Syrup’s eyes bulged "But why would Namekians be searching the spheres, too? They have all the magic they need!"

"Finally you said something intelligent!" Beer agreed "There’s something fishy about this, and it’s better for us to check before the others come here before us. No, Garana" he said, seeing the blue alien floating in the air with them, "stay with the prisoner. You weren’t even supposed to have taken off with us!" he scolded.

"Why?" Garana’s expression showed that he more or less expected that; still, he couldn’t help but protest. "He’s out of danger now. You might need my services, if these new guys give you too much work. Syrup can babysit the prisoner instead. "
"No, he can’t. If I know Syrup well, he might kill the prisoner just to relieve his boredom, and then say it was an accident. I’ll have a patrol come here and help you get this sorry ass to the ship...and for your own health, its better that he’s still alive and sound when they find you." And with that, Beer flew away. Syrup gave a scornful, unpleasant laugh.

"Yeah, take good care of the Lazy Boy!" he sneered, then followed his leader, laughing as he found his own joke very funny.

Having nowhere to go but down, Garana stood several feet from where the unconscious man laid, glaring warily at him and cursing his own bad luck. He hadn’t the courage to tell Beer what had been really bothering him...that the strange man they had found almost drowned in that sandbank could belong to the same race as Master Turles. Even with all the mud and dirt, the signs were evident...his face, his hair, even the furred tail. How those two idiots hadn’t noticed all that, he didn’t know. But Garana knew they would consider the hypothesis an absurd one and laugh at him. Freeza had extinguished the Saiyan race a long time ago. Even the only heir of the Royal House was dead, five years ago, according to those guys Nappa and Radditz. They were dead now - and good riddance! They had brought with them nothing but trouble. Now the only Saiyans alive were Master Turles and that freaky copy of his that lived on Earth...and even then it was only a matter of time until that blasted planet was destroyed by the Master’s secret weapon. But if there was a Saiyan on Earth, couldn’t there be another Saiyan living elsewhere as well?  

Slowly, Garana took a few steps towards the still immobile man. He knew that Saiyans used to send their babies to purge other planets, as a sort of initiation and training. Thanks to that, Master Turles and his Earth clone had survived their planet’s destruction. And if they could, why not other Saiyans?
Of course, he could just be imagining things, he thought, more to reassure himself, as he walked in circles. After all, his ki was too low to belong to a Saiyan .Maybe he was just being paranoid. With these thoughts, he walked a little closer to the ailing man. Garana wasn’t sure if he was really fainted or just pretending, but anyway the handcuffs would keep him from causing any trouble. Still, that scout party was taking forever. Blasted Beer, he probably had forgotten sending someone to help him. Better to call them himself.

Garana just had reached the communication button on his scouter when a low whining called his attention. His eyes instantaneously dropped where the man still lay. The prisoner stirred and moved his head, then frowned a little, apparently noticing he couldn’t move his arms freely, but he didn’t open his eyes. His legs folded a little, resting the soles of his feet on the ground, as if he was going to try and sit up. Sure that there was no danger, Garana started walking towards him.
"Ooohhh... " the man moaned, blinking "Where I am? And why can’t I feel my hands?"
"Shut up, or you’re not going feel your entire body." Garana hissed threateningly, as his hand slid toward the laser pistol in his belt. The prisoner blinked again with a confused expression, as if he couldn’t see Garana clearly.

"I need some water..." he said in a pleading tone. The blue alien hesitated and started putting his pistol back on his belt. Slowly, he bent down over the other man.

A move he would regret in his last seconds of life.

In a quick movement and using his tail and legs as coils, the man took impulse and pressed the handcuffs against Garana’s throat, and at the same time his hands grabbed the back of the pirate’s neck, forcing the damn things against his skin. Caught off-guard, Garana lost his balance and fell on his back, receiving the whole weight of the former prisoner toppling over him. The pirate still made a move to get his pistol, but the tail of his opponent wrapped around his thin arm and twisted it until the bone snapped with a dry sound.

Despite all the pain and despair taking over his senses, Garana couldn’t help but feel shocked. Although he was considered weak in comparison to most of Turles’ cohorts, he wasn’t supposed to be easily defeated by this half-drowned native with such pitiful ki. And, in the last seconds his brain worked, he realized his suspicion was right. That man was really a S...

Then a last stroke of the handcuffs finally ripped his throat, releasing a jet of dark blue fluid at Vegeta’s face with a gurgled sound. He received the smelly, clammy liquid with a disgusted face. Spitting and blinking, he tried unsuccessfully to clean his face with his forearms, before staring at the corpse with an expression of wonder and disbelief. Slowly, the realization dawned on him, making a slow, evil laugh come from the deep of his own throat.

"Thanks for saving my life," he said to Garana’s corpse. An old, devious flame that hadn’t come in years danced once again within his black eyes.

*Garana  - Guarana, a non-alcoholic drink very popular in some countries of South America.