Untamed: Expendable... or Not

“Give it to us!” “All you got muz’ be our’!” “Kick’im harder! I wanno hear’im screamin’ !”

The excited shouts could be heard from the bottom of the cave, along with the sounds of kicking and pummeling, but nobody screamed in pain. With Sepsi and Beer on his heels, Turles followed his old host to the source of all that racket, his nose wrinkled in disgust as he passed by the women and children surrounding them (the rest of the tribesmen were out in a hunting party). The children stared at the newcomers with blatant curiosity, but the women just gave the pirates scared glances before turning back to their cooking, tanning or any other task considered “womanlike” there. It was one of these worlds were one’s existence is hopelessly limited by its gender. A world full of filthy, repulsive people with a ridicule fighting power and even smaller brains.

But Turles needed one of them. One, at least. Birakas were primeval but though as claws and almost as physically resistant as the Saiyans. They had to, so they could survive. Especially the kids. The birakas’ most sacred law was ”The eldest always before the youngest”. Producing children galore and constantly having to face starvation due to the competition with predators and other tribes, the men hunted to feed their mates and first children. The younger ones got nothing but  leftovers, when there was any. They were leftovers themselves. Most babies of each litter died before their 12th birthdays – the age when a boy entered the grown-ups’ world. Any boy strong enough to reach such age earned a name and was taught to hunt. If he became a good hunter – and, especially, if the patriarch was fond of him -, the now young man would have the right of choosing a female of his own when he would be old enough to spawn.

The boy that Turles was looking for was just eight.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the cave. The small space was crowded by brats of several ages, especially boys, squeezed so tight ones against others that it was impossible to see what they were kicking and punching so happily. All that movement lifted up small clouds of dirt, making the vision worse; still, Turles noticed that only the two older boys wore filthy, short leather tunics and what looked like boots, strapped to their calves with leather tires. They were both in their teens. A few kids slightly younger than them wore just skirts and thongs. The rest of the bunch – the younger members - were naked.

The burly old man leading Turles was the father of all of them.

“Back off, yo little scundrels!” he shouted, his dry voice giving a funny accent to his words.

Instantaneously, the kids – mostly, at least – stopped and turned their heads to stare at the patriarch in astonishment. It was the very time that their old man interrupted their fun. However, the kids’ shock didn’t last more than one instant and soon they returned to their kicking and pummeling. Snarling at that display of disrespect, the ancient stepped forward, but Turles put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Mind you?” he asked, with a ironic solicitude.

“Why wud I?” the old man promptly agreed, almost cheerfully “Go and kill whoev’r you’ll want, so we’ll haf more fud for who really deserv’s!”

“Nothing will make me happier than leaving this shitty place forever” the visitor thought in disgust, as he marched toward the children “And they say that SAIYANS used to be horrible parents!” Turles never had met his parents himself (couldn’t care less), but he didn’t have to wait his majority to proof how worthy he was. Entering the crowd, Turles brutally pushed aside whoever dared to stand in front of him. The few brats who showed some reaction were promptly frozen by a simple glare of the tall Saiyan; the rest just backed away, to reveal a small, filthy, almost naked boy curled in a ball on the ground.

Bending forward, Turles picked up the little victim by the back of the kid’s neck, noticing that the boy hadn’t raised his arms to protect himself from the punches and kicks. Instead, he had one of them bent to his back with determination, as if he was hiding something, his hand grasping on something that obviously had caused all the fight. He gave the kid a long, appraising stare. The brat was clearly starving, but he didn’t look as weak as he supposed to be, in such miserable conditions… he didn’t look that hurt, either. But that was probably because his dark skin concealed most of the bruises and scratches. He wore nothing but a ragged leather skirt tied with a tight knot to his waist, which barely covered his little bits. Turles glanced at the naked children standing a few meters away of them: they were all older than the boy he was lifting up. Obviously, only the eldest were allowed to wear clothes, no matter if it was a complete outfit or just a dirty rag. So, the younger member of the bunch was breaking the rules! No wonder his siblings were spanking him.

“You weren’t kidding when you said that this brat was resistant”, Turles said with barely disguised admiration.

“The most resistant of my last litter.” The patriarch agreed grudgingly “Two of his older bros and all his youngur bros and sis are dead, but he’s still aliv’. It’s a stubborn, good-for-nothing little monkey, whom  think he’s as good as anothur.” he concluded.

“A little monkey, uh? An interesting definition” Turles repeated in an amused tone as he looked again at the boy he was holding up. The little brat hadn’t make any efforts to break free; although he kept his right arm behind his back, he seemed comfortable, as if he was truly enjoying to be suspended by the skin of his neck like a cub.

“You are not afraid of me, brat?” Turles asked amusingly.

The kid finally reacted. His mouth stretched on a wide grin, revealing scarce, yellow teeth.

“No. You ar’ strongur than my bros and I’m not affray of them.” as he spoke, he turned his head to glance disdainfully at his siblings and the other present kids, who stood impatiently at the bottom of the cave, waiting that the strangers went away, so they would come back to their fun “I’m goin’ to be twelf and becom’ a strong, big hunter! I’ll be the stronger hunter in my tribe and haf a name and good clothes. Evr’yboy’ll haf to respec’ me!” the kid concluded loud and defiantly.

The other brats answered the challenge with whistles, boos and suggestive hand signals. One of the two older boys bared his teeth and crouched to pick up a rock, but the threatening looks of Turles’ escort make him put the stone down. Beer patted his rifle to make clear what could happen.

“What if I’ll tell you that I can make you stronger right now?” the pirate boss went on as if he hadn’t noticed the small commotion.

The boy dropped his jaw. His healthy eye bulged up – but just for a few seconds. He clamped his mouth shut, producing the identical sound of a     slamming, and stared at his captor in disbelief. Nobody could blame him for not believe, but something rang in the back of Turles’ mind. As much as he liked the boys’ strong will, there was too much defiance and rebelliousness in him. Turles needed a docile guinea pig, one that never would question his orders. Not a “stubborn little monkey” that could eventually replace Turles and take everything he had fought so much for.

By other turn, if Turles left him, he would have to visit more biraka villages, instead of leaving that shitty planet. The simple thought of staying there one more day made the Saiyan’s guts twisting in repulse. Besides, he liked taking risks.

“A boy with such a potential deserves more than wasting your life hunting for morons who treat you like trash. “he insisted “Come with me and you’ll gain an unimaginable power and the respect of the entire universe.”

“Yor’ not trickin’ me like my bros, ar’ you?” the brat asked pleadingly, his good eye showing an old pain. Obviously, his brothers had tricked him by giving him fake hopes, and more than once.

Turles repressed a smile. Behind his fierce will, the brat was just a vulnerable child. That little thing craved into acceptance and need desperately to have someone to rely on. That was the tool that the pirate needed to turn the small savage into a faithful, subservient minion.

“You must have noticed that I don’t belong this planet” he stated, pretending feeling hurt by the boys’ distrust.  The brat nodded and Turles went on “I came from a very distant planet because I need a special boy who’ll able to resist anything.”

“And this boy is me? “the brat asked in disbelief, his shock and happiness making his wounded eye open. At Turles back, shocked murmurs were heard. The pirate didn’t have to look to know that the rest of those disgusting brats were now boiling with envy. Turles made a big effort to not laugh.

“Do you think that I would waste my time saving your life if I hadn’t a good purpose?” he asked, his face stony and serious “If you still have doubts, perhaps I should go back to my search “as he spoke, the hand holding the kid slowly went down “Maybe in another village I’ll find…”

“No! I’m sorry!” the boy grabbed his fist, as if his life depended on it (actually, it did) “I didn’ wan’ to offend you! Please don’ leeve me her’! I’ll do anythin’ to get strong! I’ll giv’ you all I got!” he pleaded, offering the object he had protected from his siblings – the bloody head of a bird “It’s not much”, he added hurriedly “’cause my bros and sis always take all I can get from the animals our hunters kill, but I promise  you that I’ll…”

“Throw that junk away!” the Saiyan cut him off, his patience at the end “You’ve got something that is much more precious than animal pieces. But, if  you really want to come with me,  you’ll have to keep your mouth shut!”

The boy promptly dropped his hardly-won treasure, at the same time he closed his mouth, the clashing of his jaws sounding like a trap closing. The pirate smiled at such display of obedience.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

The boy nodded and Turles lowered his arm. However, before  he put the boy down, the patriarch rushed towards them and yanked his son off Turles’ hands.

“If he’s really so precious, I wan’ more than you prawmised! “ he demanded, his eyes shining with greed “I wan’ some of these fire sticks you’re carrin’. Your armors, too…OUCH!”

Although the kid had just a few teeth left, they were enough to cause pain. The patriarch raised his fist at him.

“You lil’ peece of shit! I gonna slap yor’ mouth off..” he trailed off. His mouth opened wide as his eyes stared at nothing, his hand opening up to release his son, a few seconds before the old patriarch nose dived on the ground.

Beer had taken advantage of the distraction caused by the kid to sneak behind the patriarch and knock him out with the butt of his riffle. Falling on his scrawny butt, the kid rolled aside, avoiding to be smashed by the ailing patriarch. Slowly, he stood up and spat disdainfully at the face of his unloved father. The two teenagers in tunics gasped and ran, not to their younger brother, whom was calmly walking back to Turles, but to their father’s body. Almost instantaneously, a mob of dirty children fell over the trio, laughing, mocking, biting and tearing off the clothes of their formers tyrants.

“Just a spit and their reign was gone,” Sepsi  sneered.

Both Beer and Turles snickered at the comment. The boy, however, turned around to stare at the tunnel with concern.

“We must leave before the hunters come!” he warned “Evry’ one’s used to mah brothers ‘racket, but they’ll miss the patriarch. “

That made Sepsi and Beer bursting out laughing. That little brat was afraid that THEY would be killed by those primeval, weak hunters of his tribe? What a big idiot! However, their boss took the warning seriously.

“He’s right. It would be very unpleasant for us if the rest of the tribe found out what happened. I’m taking the brat to the ship. You two stay… and do all the cleaning.” he ordered.

His minions smirked as they lifted up the weapons the patriarch wanted so much. Although they belong to different species, the baleful, sadistic expression on their faces was identical.

* **

His master had kept  his word. Now he, Coffee, was big and powerful. He had a name that any biraka boy would die to have. He had good clothes and beautiful teeth. Occasionally, he was even allowed to have some pretty females taken from the planets he and his cohorts ransacked, although he never could keep them. He was respected, too – nobody liked him and Coffee knew that, but he didn’t mind it. This friendship stuff that weak races treasure so much is nonsense. Respect is much better. If Master Turles, Sepsi or Juice said that he would lead the scouting groups, the others had obey him and that was final. Even Tea, that big asshole.

And what he had to do to deserve all that good stuff was so so simple! He just had to take some drugs, fight with someone when he was told and let Master Turles and his assistants to examine him. Coffee found that amusing. Some drugs tasted bad, but they made him stronger and Coffee didn’t feel pain, even if he was terribly beaten. Other ones didn’t work. Other ones made him sick, but he just had to go to the tank to feel good again. Master Turles went angry whenever Coffee was sick, because Coffee was precious. The last member of his race. Sepsi had told him that an Icejin called Koola had exterminated everyone that lived on Coffee’s planet. Coffee had tried to feel something, but all he felt was a small deception because the patriarch’s wives never would see how tall and handsome he was now. Some treated him decently when the males were not around. One of those women made a point of sharing her food with him secretly, even at the risk of being punished if she was caught. Coffee always suspected that she was his mother… well, everybody dies someday. The kid that had fought him was probably dead, too.  Coffee felt sorry for having hurt him like that… even though the brat had broken his new teeth and destroyed his prey, after Coffee had offered him such a wonderful trophy ! He still felt his blood boiling at that ingratitude…

And yet, deep down, a part of him craved to see that boy again.

That was funny…

A moan left his mouth, unmuffled by the air mask. He stirred, trying to get rid of the tangled wires and cables connected to his body.

 “Heartbeat speeding up. Denopa* reduced in 50… no, 60 percent… 62… 63… “ droned worriedly the lad assistant staring at the control panel of the tank “The accelerated reduction of the organ must be causing the pain!” he added in panic.

“Give him another shot of sedative, idiot!” Turles yelled “Before he’ll break the tank!”

As the assistant ran to obey him, the Saiyan crossed his arms and stood watching the naked giant in the thank to calm down, Coffee’s movements getting slower, until he gave in to sleep again.

Turles still hadn’t found the perfect drug. When Coffee almost killed Kakarot’s brat, the other Saiyan thought that the    . However, he had just got close. His men found Coffee lying on the grass, squirming in pain and almost naked, because the gigantic alien had yanked the remains of his armor off, in order to relieve the pressure on his very swollen belly. At that moment, Turles felt like telling them to throw Coffee back in the woods to die… if it wasn’t for some points.

Maybe Coffee had made him a favor when he had taken secretly more two pills.

“Don’t give him the fruits mixture again until one hour has passed – diluted in one third of serum, this time.” Turles warned his assistant as he left the laboratory “The time to throw this bum in the trash hasn’t come yet.”

  **  ****

“Well, now that you’re dressed and fed…” Bulma started, after Vegeta finished cleaning his third plate of food.

“’Fed’?” Vegeta chorused her in a disdainful, sarcastic tone “You must be joking! These small portions you gave me can’t fill the quarter part of a Saiyan’s stomach! And ‘dressed’?”  he sneered as he tugged with disgust at the purple, extra-large T-shirt, the short pink spandex and the small orange sneakers he was dressing “I had more dignity when I was naked!”

“You’re keeping these clothes on, even if I’ll have to glue them on you!” Bulma hissed, her fists clenching “Nobody walks around naked in my house! Do you think it was easy for me to find clothes that could fit on your short, brawny body?”

Luckily for them, Doctor Briefs had a kit with random clothes at all the houses produced by his company – “for a rainy day of the customers”, he said. Bulma always had found that a waste of money, but now she was grateful to her father’s generosity. She hadn’t been overdramatic when she said she had trouble into finding clothes for Vegeta : first, Bulma had to search throughout the entire house until she found the clothes kit. Then, she had to separate among the pieces of cloth those that would probably fit on Vegeta. All that work took her more time because of the interruptions caused by Krillin and Gohan. The first kept asking Bulma where the sign blocker was, so he could take it to the dragon balls and the second occasionally came to ask Bulma something about the computer and the messages. The cherry of the cake was when a hyperventilating, stark naked Vegeta came screaming from the bathroom because his eyes were stinging with shampoo. 

That vision would be engraved on Bulma’s retinas for the rest of her life.

“S-small portions?” Oolong stuttered as he awed at the empty plates and bowls that crowded the table of the living-room “He ate our last yakissoba packages and all the fish I caught today! We’re going to starve because of him!”

Vegeta acknowledged the worried complaints with a disdainful look.

“I need all of you in perfect health. You may keep the rest of your supplies; I’ll hunt my own food as always” he conceded, before remembering something “Where are the baldy and the brat?”

“Krillin is off to take the signal block to the place where he’s hidden our dragon balls” Bulma answered “Of course he’s going to hide them in a new place – if those pirates haven’t changed their minds and picked them, yet.  And Gohan is checking the info on the scouter.”

The word ‘scouter’ rang a bell on Vegeta.

“Now I remember. You said you had built a device to translate the messages. Where is the decryp… the device?”

“I’ll show you later. Now I’d like to have a word with you…” Bulma started.

Dismissing her words, Vegeta turned his back to her and toward a door. That door led to the place where he had seen the annoying woman sleeping surrounded by wires and thingamabobs.

“I’m already sick of your voice” he dismissed her “If you won’t show me, I’ll find it by myself.”

Bulma’s eyes sent angry blue sparkles off. In an abrupt, fast move, she stepped and blocked his way, her fists clenching threateningly.

“Now listen, your ungrateful asshole! I am the ONLY one in the universe who wants to help you! Your former boss threw you out, probably because he no longer could put up with your jerky attitude. Nobody gave a damn, or you would have been rescued years ago. Even my friends, who love to help everybody, want you out of here. So, you’ll better treat me with respect from now on, unless you’ll want to be stuck in this planet jumping from a branch to another UNTIL THE FURS OF YOUR TAIL WILL BECOME WHITE! Got it?”

For a moment, Vegeta just stared wide-eyed at her. Finally, he humpfed and agreed into follow Bulma in silence. Oolong, whom had backed away during Bulma’s lecture, let himself fall on an armchair and released all the air his lungs were holding.

Bulma would have preferred to take Vegeta to the laboratory, but Gohan was there and she wanted to talk in private; so, she took Vegeta out of the house.  Finding herself outside, she gave a few steps toward the waterfall that concealed the cave.

“I wish we could talk outside” she sighed as she stared wistfully at the water, trying to see something out there “I’m so sick of this confinement…”
 

“Stop whining and tell me what you want!” Vegeta snapped impatiently.

Bulma glared at him upon her shoulder.

 “Allright, allright. You’re really a pain in the butt.” she huffed before sullenly turning around “How have you lost your powers?”

It was not even the last thing that Vegeta would imagine that Bulma wanted from him. He was so sure that silly woman had brought him there to dictate him behavior rules, promise him better clothes or anything else equally futile and useless. At best, he considered that Bulma would want to know more about the herbs of the planet.

“What an irritating woman! She’s completely unpredictable!” he thought, feeling a little humiliated because such an insignificant creature had caught him by surprise.

Unaware of his opinions about her, Bulma suspected that Vegeta’s ugly face was caused by the painful memories of his loss, and felt bad about this.

“You don’t have to go into details.” She reassured him with an embarrassed smile “I know it must have been painful, but…”

“I don’t know how it happened.” Vegeta cut her off.  He closed his eyes, remembering once again the last time he had stepped on the Ice Planet basis “Since I came here there is not a day I won’t try to figure out how they did this to me.”

Taking a deep breath, the exiled Saiyan opened his eyes.

“That day, I returned to the basis after having accomplished a mission of routine. “ he explained “A group of soldiers escorted me towards the infirmary and the doctor told me to enter the regeneration tank, although I was healthy…”

“Regeneration tank?” Bulma chorused in confusion.

Vegeta glared at her in disbelief.

“You don’t know what a regeneration tank is? How do your Earthlings heal your injuries?” he asked, before hurriedly dismissing Bulma’s answer “Never mind. A regeneration tank is a… place where the patient gets immersed in a… revitalizing liquid until he or she is completely healed. The time for the immersion depends on how hurt he or she is. It might take a day or minutes.”

“You guys have something able to heal in minutes? That’s fantastic!” Bulma squealed as she joined her hands in enthusiasm “If Capsule Corporation could make these tanks, we’d no longer have hospitals! What I wouldn’t give to see one…”

“It’s simple. Just go out and get caught.” Vegeta cut her again.

As he expected, the young woman looked shocked at him – so shocked that he couldn’t help but lifting an amused corner of his mouth.

“I heard some of Turles’ men saying that Turles demands the prisoners taken alive, so he’ll make experiments on them. “ he went on, spurred by her horrified reaction. As Vegeta spoke, the horror in Bulma’s eyes increased, causing the other corner of his mouth to lift. Slowly, his lips stretched in a sadistic smirk of the pure delight of scaring that ridiculous, insufferable woman “Probably, he would torture you by all forms until you were on the brink of the death, before putting you into the tank, so you would be ready to endure another experiments session. And after this session, he would put you there again, and again…”

“STOP IT!” Bulma screaming, backing away and staring at him as if the Saiyan was a giant, disgusting spider crawling towards her “You… you are as repulsive as Turles! How can you find such horrible things so funny?”

Vegeta replaced his smirk by his usually impassive expression.

“Idiot!” he lectured “Didn’t you want to see the regeneration tanks? They serve to heal prisoners after torture, as well to heal the warriors hurt on battlefield. There wasn’t any reason for me to get healed, but I had to follow my orders. I lost consciousness as soon as I was immersed in the tank. When I woke up, I was told…” in an unexpressive tone, he told Bulma how he had slept again in his ship, just to wake up much later in an unknown point of the universe, with the ship system damaged and unable to communicate to anyone.

“Your transformation must have happened when you were in the tank “ Bulma appraised the information “It would have been easy to inject anything in your body during all this time. But, why did they make you sleep afterwards?”

“Hmpf! Obviously it was to prevent me from noticing that the ship was not going to Nutek.” Vegeta huffed, since it looked too obvious for him. Noticing that she was opening her mouth again, he quickly went on “Now it’s my turn to ask: why do you want to know all that?”

“Because, if I learn how they have erased your Saiyan powers, maybe I’ll be able to restore them.”