Going Native: Sound of Change (ch. 41) (Patreon)

A reminder: I will be taking a break from July 3rd to July 10th so there will be no updates during that week.   

...

"Get out of my face," Fasha warned, taking a threatening step forward towards the downright ugly alien that had pissed her off. Her eyes blazed yellow, the mind-shattering agony of the Wrath State flooded her veins, making them bulge as she kept her instincts to destroy and slaughter in check. If only because the alien that was stupid enough to try to shoulder check her was wearing a Frieza-force uniform. Sort of. 

The alien was wreathed in fire, two volcano-like protrusions were its shoulders and they constantly spewed fire. That same intense reddish flames covered it's head, serving as hair and a beard. Its face lacked any kind of features, only a faceplate in the general shape of a face and then a chin underneath could be seen in the fire. Its uniform was burnt, barely holding together and what was left was little more than blackened armor, cooked from the lines of flowing magma that shifted within its body. 

Instead of doing the smart thing, the fire that immolated the alien flashed hotter, heat washing over her face. The metal where he stood started the glow bright red, the air itself sweltering while the other aliens walking down the hallways backed off. Fasha reached out and pressed a hand against its chest, her hand burning but the pain was nothing compared to the Wrath State, even as flesh cooked and blackened. 

Then she pushed. Lightly. It was still enough to send the alien flying through the wall with a loud screech of metal tearing apart. Gritting her teeth, Fasha very calmly walked into the storeroom that was currently on fire. The alien tried to push itself up, but Fasha slammed a foot onto its faceplate, ignoring how her boot melted away. "You're going to try to start shit with me? Listen close -- the only reason I haven't crushed your skull is that you're a member of the 501st. Tarble would be upset if I did. So, instead of being all pissy, how about you go to him, drop to your fucking knees and thank him for saving your life, trash." 

To seal the point home, Fasha pressed her foot down. The flames burnt away her leg protected, reducing the metal of the floor to glowing red hot slag, but Fasha ignored it until she heard a satisfying crack. Like someone had snapped a piece of glass. Withdrawing her foot, Fasha admired her handiwork. A large crack formed at one of the alien’s eyes, splitting it into three. She thought the piece might fall off, but it remained there. A nice permanent reminder to never mess with her again. 

With her pointed made, Fasha walked out of the room, half hoping that it would try to take a cheap shot at her. It didn't. Coward. The other aliens flinched when they met her blazing yellow gaze but she paid them little mind as she walked forward, forming a Medicine Ball. As the soothing healing light took care of her burns, the crowd parted for her to let her continue onto her destination. 

On her way, she ran into Shugesh. Her longtime teammate looked as he ever did -- bowl-shaped haircut, a goatee that was growing in after about six years of growing it, powerful arms and a stomach pushing out his armor. He glanced at her appearance, the burnt edges of her uniform, and her missing boot before he let out a huff of laughter. "Another one?" He asked, tossing her a piece of jerky. Fasha liked Shugesh. He kept giving her food. 

"Another one," Fasha agreed, biting the jerky in half and before she was done chewing, she threw the other half in her mouth and swallowed. "Tarble sure knows how to pick them," Fasha said with a satisfied smile, throwing her hands behind her head as they walked down the hallway of the flagship. 

The recruits of the 501st were used to being the toughest of whatever unit they were in. And now, all of those small flames thinking they were bigshots were all a part of the same unit. It was an honest miracle that the ship didn't reek of urine because if how many pissing contests were happening every day. 

And it said a lot about Tarble that no one had been killed yet. He was letting the strong assert themselves, a natural hierarchy of strength forming, but he was undoubtedly at the top of it. He gave the order as soon as they entered the ship -- no killing each other, or he would kill the winner. 

So far, everyone proved that they believed him to be the strongest because no one dared to challenge him or his rule. 

"They're targeting us specifically. Since they can't take a shot at Tarble," Shugesh pointed out. "It's good to fight something other than Scarabs. Just a shame we can't fight to the death." 

"Yeah, but what can you do?" Fasha shrugged her shoulders. "We need them for the fight." 

Shugesh grinned, "Can't wait for it. Has Tarble told you the plan yet?" He asked, making her frown. Fasha knew that their target was a Shield World, the first one that would breach the gate that protected the Reach's outer core world's. Which, naturally, made it well protected to an extreme degree. Fleets upon fleets, armies upon armies, Scarabs upon Scarabs. 

Tarble had been keeping his cards close to his chest on exactly what the plan was.

"He told you?" Fasha asked, making Shugesh shake his head. That was reassuring. If Tarble was going to Shugesh with tactics, then he had clearly taken too many blows to the head. 

"No, but I heard he's coordinating with another fleet. And it has something to do with that one FTL drive… the, uh… the slip something," Shugesh trailed off when he saw her blank look. "The one with the portal where like a week is two seconds in normal time? The one we used to get to Rench." Understanding flooded Fasha as memories came running in. 

Way back when Tarble had been trying to fill Bardock's shoes and they had been expecting him to obey orders. 

"Right. What about it?" Fasha asked, trying to fit the pieces together. Maybe it was a case no one knowing yet, but attacking a Shield World with only one ship was tantamount to suicide. Given how the Reach just cut right through Frieza-force ships, they would need at least five fleets working together. What did the Slipdrive have anything to do with anything? 

"I'm guessing he's planning to use it to jump into the system like we did with Rench. If the Reach made the wink drive, then they probably know how to jam it," Shugesh pointed out. "We jump into the system, hit the fleet with a surprise attack, then we jump out to do repairs and stuff, then we jump back in." 

That sounded like a very Tarble solution, but Fasha had her doubts. 

"Tarble has been spending a lot of time with those magic users," Fasha noted. She didn't know why or what they spoke about, but that gray-skinned alien was usually seen hovering around Tarble for one reason or another. What she did know was that Tarble gave them a task, something to study, but he had been cagy about what. "So they probably have something to do with the plan." 

"Why don't we just go ask him?" Tora spoke up, leaning against a wall, waiting to speak up until after they had passed him by. "Tarble is teaching the kids the watered-down Wrath State right now, so it's probably the best time."

Fasha nodded, "Sounds good. I'm looking forward to a real challenge again. The planets we've been taking have been too easy." Though, Fasha wasn't sure how she felt about the kids learning a weaker version of the Wrath State. She understood the logic of it. Even with a times ten multiplier, their power level would be around ten thousand max, but there were over a hundred thousand Saiyan kids trying to master the state. Teaching the full version was just asking for problems because a hundred thousand kids going mad with pain sounded like a real mess.

Still, Fasha hoped that they would scale up to the full version quickly. They were going to need it. 

"Careful what you ask for. A Shield World might be a bit too much for us to chew," Tora remarked, though he didn't sound particularly worried. "Tarble has been sticking up on crazy amounts of food. I think he's worried about running into another Rench situation."

That wasn't surprising. It had been his first mission as a leader and everyone had nearly starved to death. Well, the saiyans would have after eating everyone else. Supply lines were something that Tarble paid attention to with near-religious intensity. 

"Hm. And I've heard that he's been working with Technician," Fasha offered her own but of gossip to try to complete the puzzle. The Slipdrive, the amount of food, consulting with magic and tech users… Fasha had ideas, but she wouldn't be willing to put any food on them. She learned better than to think she knew what was going on in the heads of people like Bardock and Tarble. 

So, Fasha shrugged to herself, “We aren’t going to figure it out. You’re right, let’s just go ask him.” Tora nodded as he led them down the halls. Now that the three of them were together, not even the real trouble makers that populated the 501st thought to try anything as they walked by. Despite their small numbers in an army of a million, Tarble’s 501st presence could be felt everywhere in the flagship. 

The other ninety hundred thousand might as well not have been there. The recruits, both saiyan and 501st had handled the last few planets that they had taken. Getting them used to combat and working together. 

“Hey,” Fasha started as they walked through the halls towards one of the designated training areas. “Do you think Tarble would be getting promoted after we take the Shield World? Maybe we could split off from Queen Teach’s army if Tarble becomes a general.” Despite spending the past two years with her, Fasha still wasn’t sure how she felt about the Queen. 

Fasha respected her, but she wasn’t sure how she felt. Queen Teach was pretty much everything a saiyan woman should be -- incredibly strong, powerful, and independent. Queen Teach was… a friend, for a lack of a better word. Just like Gine was. And, one day, her friends would be pitted against each other because there was no doubt in her mind that Queen Teach would side with the Royal family. Queen Teach didn’t care for King Vegeta, but she certainly cared for Prince Vegeta, the heir to the throne. 

If Tarble sided with Bardock… then her friend was going to have to pick between which of her children to fight against. Just like how Tarble was going to have to pick between his team and his family. 

That entire situation was so utterly fucked that Fasha didn’t want to think about it. With any luck, both King and Prince Vegeta would die in the war so no one would be forced to choose between anyone. It wouldn’t happen, but she could hope. 

“Maybe. Though, the kids aren’t ready to fight in the battles were going to be bringing them into,” Tora responded. “The others are a good meatshield for them.”

“Eh, maybe. Something to think about at least,” Fasha said before the arrived at the training area. The double door slid open and they were hit with the sounds of a hundred children screaming in pain. Tarble hovered above them all, his arms crossed over his chest while a red cape was draped from his shoulders. Even now, all these years later, it was hard to reconcile that one of the most powerful saiyans in their history barely reached her knee in height. 

The children’s faces were twisted in pain but not the kind of agony that she felt when she was in the Wrath State. Out of curiosity, Fasha tapped down on her scouter. The numbers fluctuated, but she saw that most of them were hovering around twice the kids base power. Which was progress, even if they were a long way away from their end destination. 

Then a kid snapped. He threw his head back and unleashed an ear-piercing scream as his power level surged. Veins bulge in his neck and arms- 

And, before he could even finish screaming, Tarble was on top of him and grabbed his tail. The kid slumped to the ground, breathing heavily. Much like he had done with them back when they were getting the hang of the Wrath State. The Team hadn’t mastered it yet, not like Tarble had. 

“Keep yourselves centered. Memorize the level of power you have flowing through you. That’s your target. You need to be able to keep it at that level no matter the situation -- despite being in a fight, despite the pain, despite feeling the need you need more power, you keep it at that level,” Tarble called out, letting go of the kid’s tail. “No matter what. Because if you lose control in a fight, then you’re dead. End of story.”

It was still weird seeing Tarble so authoritative, able to command a room of what looked like they should be his peers. In the past two years, he really had settled into the role of being a commander. Giving orders, taking control, and accepting responsibility. Bardock, if he was here, would be proud of him. 

Her, Tora, and Shugesh stood at the edge of the railing, waiting for the lesson to end. Tarble picked up on their presence without looking at them and drifted over towards them. “How are things with your troops?” He asked, still watching over the current batch of kids learning the first stage of the Wrath State. 

"Fine. Eager for another fight," Fasha answered first. Her kids were driven, eager to rise to the top of the food chain, just like Prince Tarble had. From low-class to elite-class. It gave Fasha a better appreciation for Bardock and Tarble because leading that many people, children no less, was a tedious and frustrating task. Enough so that it made her wish that she had started out in charge of a much more reasonable number. 

Only then those kids would probably be killed off in a random battle on a nameless planet because of an idiot commander. 

"They're going to have to wait a bit," Tarble informed. 

"So we're not taking the kids to hit the Shield World?" Tora questioned, making Tarble shake his head. 

"No. They're nowhere near ready for that yet. If we take them, then they'll just get themselves killed. Or we'll get killed trying to save them," Tarble said, watching over the kids. And while he thought nothing of it, it said a lot about him that he expected a Saiyan warrior to die to protect children. Because most wouldn't. The other mid-class, and royal family certainly wouldn't. 

Shugesh let out a huff, "They're not going to like that." 

"They won't. But it's better than being dead," Tarble dismissed with a shrug of his shoulders. 

"Will Broly be coming with us?" Tora asked and a frown tugged at Tarble's lips as he considered the question. Broly… Fasha was worried about Broly. 

Just like Tarble was an utterly massive wrench thrown into the plan to usurp the throne so Bardock could be King, Broly changed things drastically. A power level that seemed to inch closer to ninety thousand every day, Broly was probably a bigger wrench that Tarble was. His father was completely on board if it meant he got his 'vengeance' but his participation didn't mean Broly's. Especially considering that Broly might as well be attached to Tarble they were together so often. 

"No. At least not in the initial wave," Tarble denied. "It would mess with his cover." 

"So," Fasha spoke up, leaning on the railing. "What is the plan then? We've been guessing for a while now but I can't figure out what you have planned beyond it involves the 501st."

Tarble's lips curled into a smile that looked very out of place on his face -- a small smile that was sharp enough to cut with a dangerous point. 

He told them his plan. 

It was crazier than anything Bardock had ever come up with. So crazy that there was no way that it wouldn't work.

… 

"I don't want to fight Narra," Narra's youngest sister, Nakka whispered into her stomach. Her arms were wrapped around her in a desperate hug, clinging to her like a lifeline that she was terrified would slip between her small fingers. "I don't want you to fight. It's… it's horrible! I can…" Nakka's voice was muffled but Narra heard them clearly. "I can hear their voices disappearing. They're so angry and sad, I just want it to stop!" 

Narra ran her fingers through her sister's hair, rubbing soothing circles into her back as Nakka trembled as she cried. No words of reassurance escaped her throat. Not that they would have done any good. This was not the first time this has happened, nor would it be the last. Nakka was burdened with a great gift back on their home planet, but here, in war, it was proving to be a terrible curse. 

Instead, the only words of reassurance Narra could give were aimed to herself to stop her from breaking down as well. That Nakka would see the end of this war and live a long happy life that would make the scars of trauma fade. That her sister would grow into her role as Night Mother, a role that Narra currently filled. That… that this nightmare would end, they would return home, and never again would they suffer at the hands of Frieza's tyranny. 

"He's coming this way," Nakka warned her. The Prince was coming, likely to try to learn more of the long safeguarded secrets of her race's magic. 

"Nakka… what…?" Narra asked her little sister as she pulled away from her, drying her eyes on her sleeves. Saiyans respected physical strength and power, but it seemed that Prince Tarble held a quiet respect for inner strength. So she and her sisters, all of the sisters of her race, but up a brave face to earn his favor.

"His voice is soft and quiet," Nakka answered after a moment. "And sad most of the time." 

That wasn't the answer Narra had expected, but it was a welcomed one. She would never forgive him for bringing Nakka here, to such a dangerous place -- being separated from her sister was better than the torment she suffered being on the battlefield. In other armies, Nakka could hang back and avoid the worst of it. In an army led by Saiyans? A race that craved death and destruction? 

Nakka had seen more war in the past month than she had seen in the past two years. 

Even still, it was a reassurance that he wasn't as malevolent like his master, the tyrant Frieza. 

"Are you ready?" Narra asked her youngest sister, straightening her hair. Nakka sniffled once, wiping her nose before she nodded. "If it ever becomes too much-" 

"Then I'll find you," Nakka finished for her in a small voice thick with emotion. She sniffled again and reached out, clutching Narra's hand in a tight grip. Narra gave her youngest sister a tight-lipped smile, wishing that she could do more. But she couldn't. Taking in a small breath, Narra squeezed Nakka's hand once before they stepped outside of their quarters. 

Looking to her left, Narra saw Prince Tarble walking down the hallway. With Broly right behind him, clutching Prince Tarble's red cape with one hand while he stuffed a ration bar into his mouth with the other while both of them looked out at a hologram of what lay outside of the thick hull -- a pitch-black void filled with billions of pricks of light. 

They were cute -- that much Narra could admit to herself. Despite the armor, they looked like very small children lost on a massive ship with Broly holding onto Prince Tarble to stop himself from being left behind. But appearances were deceiving. Prince Tarble had murdered millions with his own two hands and caused the death of millions more. 

"Narra," Prince Tarble greeted her, slowing to a stop and making Broly bump into the back of him since he was too distracted by his ration bar and the view in equal measures. 

"Prince Tarble, Broly," Narra greeted, giving a small bow of submission. "Is there something that you require of me?" So far, she found that Prince Tarble preferred simple politeness rather than subservience. 

Prince Tarble started to shake his head, only to pause. “I’m going to meet with Technician now. Are you prepared?” He asked, his black eyes hardening as he looked at her. Young and cute as he might be, his eyes didn’t fit the body he inhabited. His gaze was sharp enough that she felt its edge and carried a weight that didn’t belong to a child. 

“I am,” Narra quickly answered as she fell in step behind Prince Tarble. Broly looked back at her, his dark eyes flicking between her and Nakka. He dropped the wrapper to his ration on the ground, briefly letting go of Prince Tarble’s cape to open up a capsule of a box of rations, grabbed another, then resealed the capsule. Taking hold of Prince Tarble’s cape again, Broly started eating the ration again. 

Out of curiosity, Narra looked behind her to see that a trail of wrappers marked their path. 

“Good. Everything is almost in place. If Technician is done with his part, then we'll be hitting the Shield World soon,” Prince Tarble said and Narra could hear the excitement in his voice. Narra squeezed down reassuringly on Nakka’s hand, trying to pretend as if the thought of the future battle didn’t terrify her to her core. 

A Shield World. The last time she had seen one, it had been just after their Night Mother had just perished, her sisters were scattered, and she had aided in an unforgivable act. The destruction of a planet and killing who knew how many people. This time, it was Nakka who squeezed her hand reassuringly. 

“Very well. I am prepared for what you have planned,” Narra said and she had no idea if those words were a lie. The burden of leadership was heavy, and the war that her race found themselves dragged into conflicted heavily with her kind’s teachings. Their magic was meant to bring balance so life could flourish, yet Narra found herself creating spells for the sole purpose of killing at Prince Tarble’s request. 

It was better that her hands were stained with blood than her sisters. Being a Mother was about making sacrifices. If she could be the only one that took a life, then Narra would be glad for it. Her ancestors would spit on her if they saw what she had done, and will do, but that was simply a sacrifice that she had to make. 

"The spell is done?" Prince Tarble questioned as he led them through the halls of the ship. 

Narra's lips thinned at the abomination of a spell she had created because Prince Tarble had ordered it. "It is," she answered shortly. Prince Tarble didn't seem to notice her curt tone. Or if he did, he didn't care. 

"Will I have to fight?" Nakka spoke up for the first time in the Prince's presence. Narra opened her mouth to answer, but Prince Tarble shook his head before she could begin. 

"No. You're not ready yet. The 501st will be the initial wave. You and the other recruits won't be sent planetside until we've secured it," Prince Tarble reassured. And not just her and her sister. Narra saw that Broly looked relieved as well behind the crumbs on his face. Relieved tinged with shame. Perhaps not all of the Saiyans were filled with those that enjoyed carnage? "You'll be here with the other recruits for however long that takes," he said before he threw her a look over his shoulder. "Unless she should come?" 

"She shouldn't," Narra quickly put the idea to rest. 

"If you say so," Prince Tarble let the topic drop until Broly spoke up. 

"I want to go," Broly said, coming to a stop and nearly pulled off Prince Tarble's cape. "I should go." 

"No," Prince Tarble refused flatly without any hesitation. Broly opened his mouth to protest, but Prince Tarble continued. "You're not ready for that battlefield. Not yet. It's going to be unlike anything you've seen so far. A thousand times worse," he warned flatly with a small shake of his head. "You aren't ready for that. Neither is Elery, or Kakarot, or any of the other kids. For now, you leave that battlefield to us. Until you're ready."

"But you're a kid too and I'm older than you," Broly pouted, sounding like he accepted that he lost the argument but wanted to get the last word in. And it was a surprise to Narra that Broly was the elder of the two. But Narra had heard that Prince Tarble was regarded as a freak of nature by his own people. Unlike most races, that term was a compliment. 

"And I'm the commander," Prince Tarble returned before he resumed walking. They traveled in silence through the halls. Instead of taking them to the research bay that had been set up for the scientists of the 501st, Prince Tarble led them to a command deck. One that was sparsely populated -- there was the Captain of the 501st, who was named Avery and Technician, an alien that acted something akin to a tutor to Prince Tarble.  

"What's on your arm?" Prince Tarble asked, looking at Avery, who wasted no time showing off a marking on his arm. His skin was as dark as the void, so the stark white numbers stood out that much more. Three numbers -- 501

"A tattoo. All of us in the old guard are getting them. To stand out amongst the fresh blood," he explained, nodding at her. "No offense," Avery offered, as if she would be. If anything, Narra was confused. She couldn't understand wanting to permanently mark yourself for something like the 501st. To take pride in it. But, Avery was not a member of her race and he had been a part of the 501st much longer than she. 

“Hm,” was all Prince Tarble said, but there was a faint grin tugging at the edges of his lips. He turned to Technician, “Is everything ready on your end?” He asked, his tone serious. 

Technician nodded, making Narra’s hopes fall that the delay in the invasion couldn’t be put off. “I am. Their codes have been cracked, and I’m confident that it’ll work. If only because they’ll never see it coming,” he remarked. And, at the very least, Narra had to give him that. Prince Tarble’s plan was insanity given form. The Reach would never consider it a possibility, thus they wouldn’t prepare for it. 

“Good. Then we’ll proceed with our plans,” Prince Tarble decided with a nod to himself. “Avery, you’ll be in command of a third of the 501st, I’ll take another third and Mom will lead the last third. Likewise, my Team will be divided up into thirds to go with you -- Fasha and Matillo with me, Borgos and Shugesh with you while Parslee and Tora will be with Mom.” An expression of apprehension passed over Avery’s face, “Don’t worry. Mom won’t throw lives away.”

Avery didn’t look very reassured, “Sir, I’ve fought under Queen Teach.” He said grimly, and after a moment, it was clear that was all he thought he had to say. Narra shifted, placing herself between Prince Tarble and Nakka. Narra didn’t claim to understand Saiyan families, but there seemed to be genuine love between mother and son -- proving that even monsters had someone that loved them. Meaning that Narra didn’t expect Prince Tarble to react well to the slight. 

“I’ll talk to Mom about putting Tora in charge of the forces. She’ll probably want to pass off the troops so she can indulge in the fight,” Prince Tarble admitted to them, surprising her. Because, quite often, love made one blind to their faults. 

“Are you sure you want me to continue being the Captain of the 501st?” Avery continued, his tone serious. Telling her that the question had been on his mind longer than just now. Which prompted Technician to nod as well. 

“The pool of recruits you have selected is incredibly talented. I have spied several candidates that would make a suitable replacement for my position as head of Tech Support,” Technician seconded. Narra wondered if she should follow it up with recommending that Prince Tarble find someone else for Magic Support, but need held her tongue before she could voice her desire. 

As the Night Mother, or the head of Magic Support, she had some control over the situations that her sisters would find themselves in. Prince Tarble granted a fair deal of autonomy, so long as results were delivered. If she stepped down, like she wanted to, then her few sisters would be put in harm’s way. Simply because the next head would likely be of a different race and prioritize the safety of members of their own race. 

“Maybe,” Prince Tarble allowed, “but I don’t trust them. Avery, I know you’ll get whatever mission I give you done with as few casualties as possible. I don’t know the new recruits well enough to say that any of them would do the same.” He said before he turned to Technician, “Just like how I know you’ll get whatever task I give you done and you’ve proven repeatedly that you deserve your position. Both of you do.” 

Avery shifted, scratching at the back of his neck. “Well, when you put it like that…” He muttered, not sounding displeased with the praise. Technician chuckled as well. 

Narra felt like an outsider. A stranger amongst friends. But that was to be expected. Avery and Technician had earned their positions, whatever they might be. She?

Her compliance was secured with leverage. Her sisters. Nakka. Until Narra found a way to save all of her sisters, and those few left on her planet, she was stuck obeying whatever order Prince Tarble gave. No matter how much it galled her, or went against their teachings. Narra would obey because if she didn’t, if she tried to flee, then others would pay the price. 

“So that’s the last I’ll hear about either of you trying to get yourselves replaced, got it?” Prince Tarble warned with a soft smile in his voice. A smile that hardened when he brought up a hologram of the Shield World that they would be attacking. 

“If everything’s ready, then we hit it tomorrow.”