#ah yes the constant fear that my work won’t be able to sustain me despite the fact that I’ve never actually tested the theory

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

My deepest apologies, heretics, for my lack of activity in the past weeks, my seeming disinterest stemmed nowhere from you. My workflow, as all who have been here for more than a week might have acquired, stems entirely from my ability to justify it. If I can’t think of anything witty to say, I just, uh… won’t.

Speak.

And you might see where this could cause concerns when I am attempting to produce engaging, quality content at least one a week. So to confirm: I am not Dead, I will not be abandoning this platform I’ve managed to scrape out for myself, and I do Actually create things! Content even. For you.

As it currently sits, I have been eyeing a few more submission possibilities for my work, and should one in particular pan out, I will have the honor of seeing my work bring me money for the first time… ever. Which would be neat.

I, do not wish to vent, on here. I feel I have set a degree of separation between my observable work and my personal life, and I think that’s for the best. You all have seen some of the most explicit emotional expression I’ve ever created, yes, and that’s what I want my art to do, but all the same I’d rather you not have the floor-plans to my mild mystery murder basement.

All this to say, I am a human being. Constant heresy is draining, and braziers are hard to acquire on mass. I am not going to stop creating, so long as it brings a smidgen of enjoyment and satisfaction to myself, and a little bit more blasphemy into your lives.

The concept of publishing an anthology of my shorter work, novellas I’ve been bleeding into, or, god forbid (he’s been trying to) the novel that started this whole thing in the first place, is scarier than certain cosmic horrors I’ve met. I even made a few of them.

I solemnly hope, that you enjoy what I’ve been throwing at the walls, for the last year or so, and I hope you will stick around for what else I have planned, but I hope you know, that each one of you, that’s ever given me and my menagerie a chance, you’ve made my goddamn world. I have a life beyond you, a lot of you will never know me more than a name on a screen, the same for me, and that’s okay.

I can’t goddamn wait to see measurable compensation for the work I put into this, but before that was possible, before I could ever hope to have somebody listen to my work, you all did. And some of you continue to do so.

So keep yourselves ice-shatteringly crunchy, keep your ears piqued towards bloodstained corners, and keep the heresy in your side-holster as polished as violent self-expression screaming under a moon-day sun, and As Always, To You.

[alch3mic]

in between. (drabble series)

chapter four (stitches.)

captain!sans x gender neutral reader. 3k+ word count.

please be advised for themes of anxiety, ideas of loss, depression, and self esteem.

* finally at the fourth chapter with our dear fellswap sans, captain! he also has no official fic yet but has his own tag here on my tumblr if you’d like to know more about him! thank you and i hope you enjoy!

A project. 

That's all this was meant to be.

Something to keep him preoccupied in his free time, now that he seemed to have more time on his hands than he knew what to do with.

Somewhere to put his focus, instead of thinking about things.

Instead of stressing about things.

Instead of.. worrying about.. 'things'.

Like this.. 'thing'.. attached to him.

...

"ya can't just keep pacin' around bro."

Sure he could. 

He could pace around as much as he wanted. It was his boat dammit, and he'd walk around it as he pleased, from the bow to the stern, topside and back.  

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

No. 

How could he? There was work to be done.

All his life he had filled himself with his work. It was all he knew.

Work.

Work.

Work 

Work.

Work 

From his time as a child, working to take care of his younger brother to ensure he was brought up properly to his time in the royal guard working hard every day to support them and make sure they both survived that horrid Underground. Even on the surface he worked and worked and worked, to regain his position as a monster worthy of fear and respect after the humans had stripped them of everything and leaving them to rot like strays on the street.

Every minute of every day he worked.

Most days he even dreamed of it.

Which is exactly why it was so difficult to sit still, even at your request.

"You really should just take it easy, Sans. Didn't Undyne say to not stress yourself out?"

She did, but it didn't matter. 

He was in a constant state of being stressed. 

Stressed was how he operated. 

Stressed was all he knew. 

His body could never give him the pleasure of just 'taking it easy', constantly buzzing, constantly wanting to be in motion. At times he envied his brother for being able to let things go and just kick back, but... that was exactly why he worked so hard wasn't it? 

So that his brother could relax without a worry in that thick skull of his..? 

Of course.. he knew Papyrus went through his own troubles.. it's just...

Gah.

This free time was now filling his head with unnecessary thoughts, even as he tried his best to busy himself by patrolling his own boat.

..Which was only adding to his stress...

"Lets try a hobby. What do you normally do for fun?"

Think of you. 

Well.. 

He didn't have to now that you were here with him.

He could just spend time with you instead of daydreaming about it.

And he did.

You humored him by relaxing together topside with him and Papyrus, enjoying the salty breezes of the ocean and the warm summer rays. The two of you would chat in his bed for hours, laughing and telling stories of the past as you laid close. You'd help him, by offering an arm when he wore himself out or when he needed help doing something that required two hands. Everything from opening jars to preparing dinner or even tying his shoes.

It was..

Ah, dammit it was so humiliating.

..And also made him strangely happy?

He was.. happily humiliated? 

..Humbled?

..Stars.

He never had anyone taken care of him before, so his pride was taking a major blow every time you offered to help. A part of him was glad you'd always ask first so he'd at least get to attempt at doing it by himself but.. it was also humiliating to give in. He was too stubborn for his own good, never having anyone extend a hand for him neither below ground or on the Surface.

Still you never seemed bothered. 

You never batted an eye when he'd turn to you. Sometimes all it took was a look from him and you just knew, without having any words be spoke. Having that kind of connection was.. 

Incredible. 

It had been something the both of you had obviously over the years, but only now it was showing itself in the mundane parts of your lives now that you were with him. Normally it had been when you locked eyes in a fight in the streets of Ebott, and he could see the whole encounter play out in his mind. How you'd swing, how he'd shoot. How you both would nearly hit each other both on purpose and on accident. 

Like a dance with death only the two of you could perform. 

And how beautifully you danced for him..

Now.. having that connection manifest positively, in quiet agreements and silent conversations that took only seconds to have, really drove home the fact that times have changed.

That he was no longer the skeleton he was before.

He had you now, which was different. 

You were his. 

And he was yours. 

Though.. in truth you always had a part of soul with you even if you never realized it.

And he always had Papyrus by his side. 

That could never change.

But now.. he also had..

That.

The 'thing'.

An arm. 

That.. didn't belong to him.

It was attached, sure, but..

It was foreign. 

Heavy. 

A burden. 

It was consequences of his actions taken form of something that use to be, but no longer was. Like a cruel symbol of mockery, forever attached to his own broken body. There was nothing but the tickling of a sensation of pain, like a phantom dancing across his bones, from a limb that was no longer there. The magic in his scapula hummed louder than the rest of his body, always catching his attention as it had been enhanced to support the weight of his new arm. It was irritating and constant, like a buzz he couldn't be rid of no matter how loud his thoughts were or tried to be.

Always there.

Always ringing in his skull.

It was driving him crazy, adding to the mounting stress.

"FOR FUN? EASY. TRAP MAKING. ANALYTICS. READING THE STOCKS AND NEWS."

"Well that's depressing."

"STAYING INFORMED IS IMPORTANT, DARLING."

"And so is your mental health, Sans. Ignoring this won't make it go away you know."

The metallic hand closed on a reflex when he felt your gaze upon it. 

He didn't like it, despite how incredible Undyne's work was. She had studied him for weeks while he recovered in her intensive care, all so she could make an exact replica of his now missing arm. It looked just like the real thing only casted in asatollite, a type of metal found in the Underground that could conduct magic. No wires. No heavy plating. Just an arm, moved by his own magic.

An impressive feat really, but he felt no pride in this.

..Only shame.

As someone who had lived their life known for cutting it close time and time again, this was now all the proof someone needed that they could actually lay their hands on him. There was a chance that someone could hit and do some serious damage. 

For some, that would be enough to push their determination over the edge. 

The proof that he couldn't dodge forever.

And here it was, glinting under the soft afternoon sunlight that filtered into his quarters.

This... was his decline wasn't it?

..He could feel it in his bones.

Here marked the end of his reign of terror as Captain, the scarred skeleton who ruled the docks of Ebott City with an iron fist. Now that once unrelenting grip which strangled the life of rats out of the marine failed to even grasp a pen properly.

It stung in such a strange way that he almost didn't know how to describe it.

It was a unsightly fall from grace, paired with happiness and misery.

He was muddled with complicated feelings that really didn't have proper words, and so instead of spending his days thinking about it while lying in bed, he paced around his ship. 

"Is there anything you've ever wanted to learn?"

He only learned what was necessary. 

Languages to properly communicate with associates, skills like learning to shoot with a gun so that he could avoid having his magic traced back to him, and cooking so he could make sustainable meals when he and Papyrus had nothing..

They weren't things he did for fun, they were necessary.

What else could he learn that was necessary?

"HOW ABOUT TEACHING ME TO CUT A BULLET LIKE YOU DID BACK IN THE 'SISCO EXCHANGE."

"I'm not teaching you that."

"AND WHY'S THAT?"

"I don't need to make you any more dangerous than you already are you bonehead. I meant something fun! Like.. maybe a sport?"

"I THROW DARTS. I ALSO SHOOT."

"I.. Okay I guess that counts," you said, glancing to the wall of his quarters where the board was set up.

It's true it was a dart board hanging on the wall, but it was littered with photos of thugs and politicians, a dart neatly nailed through their head. It honestly looked like more of an omen of things to come rather than a hobby.

"Anything else?"

...

"I PLAYED THE VIOLIN FOR A SHORT WHILE."

"You did?"

"YES. BACK IN THE UNDERGROUND. I FOUND ONE IN THE DUMP AND TAUGHT MYSELF TO PLAY WHEN I DISCOVERED PAPYRUS LIKED THE WAY IT SOUNDED. IT WOULD HELP PUT HIM TO SLEEP ON SOME OF THE ROUGHER NIGHTS."

"Aww. Maybe you could think about picking it back up. I'd love to hear you play!"

He would, eventually. 

For right now.. the task seemed so daunting now that he had.. 

...That.

"..But maybe not yet."

Another silent conversation, passed by only the glint in his eyesocket. Once again he was glad he didn't have to openly admit he might struggle with learning something like that again but.. a small pass of shame also washed over him. He'd love to play for you, to maybe even create his own music to reflect the feelings you gave him in his soul, but to move this metallic.. 'thing'.. to play would be..

He'd become frustrated, just like with everything else.

"AND WHAT DO YOU DO TO RELAX MY DEAR?"

"Me? I usually sew or knit."

Right. Costumes. That’s why you asked to have your own space in that free room on the ship. You had mentioned it once before, how you use to do costuming back in the day for plays and helped your father who worked as a tailor until...

Hm.

"YOU SELL YOUR PIECES DON'T YOU?"

"Just to a few people. I make dresses for Mr. Rose's granddaughter and Rumpelstiltskin still orders some pieces for his wife. I also send some more elaborate stuff the Prince's way every once in awhile and I even still get requests from Mama Bear even after they disappeared off into the forest. I think they might finally have a Baby Bear on the way because they asked about knitting a little blanket a few days ago."

...

He.. tried to not humor the thought of just sailing away from this city with you, like that lucky bastard did with his spouse when he took off into the woods. Of course he couldn't, he knew Papyrus would stay here with Happy and he'd never want to be far from his brother. 

Still...

It was a tempting idea.

"I could always teach you. It's a pretty good skill to just learn how to hand stitch to mend clothing and it really isn't too complicated."

He relented ...of course. 

Because he always did to you, with that smile on your face and the hum in your tone. 

.....

Learning from you had been everything he hoped for, with you sitting close to him as you taught him how to thread a needle. You were patient with him as he struggled, his hand shaking as he did his best to will his magic to move. You were gentle as you taught him to stitch carefully and slowly, following along side as you guided him every step of the way.

...He'll never forget the way you laughed at his first pass though. 

He had been so damn.. angry! 

Really, you had the nerve to laugh even when he did his best! 

You were the worst, which is why exactly he had to pin you down and tickle you until you couldn't breathe. At least he could use that wretched metal arm to press your hands above your head as you desperately tried to wrestle out of his hold until you were flushed and gasping for breath.

His next attempt was alone late at night, when even the stars on the deck above couldn't quell his thoughts. They ran wild in his head, stampeding and thrashing about.

At his failures. 

At his mistakes.

At the humming in his shoulder and the arm that ached despite not being there. So he tried to not think about it as he quietly threaded the needle under the dim yellow lights in his quarters. The quiet creak and groan of the boat was his only accompaniment along your soft breathing from the bed as you peacefully slumbered away.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

He timed his stitches with your breaths, pushing the needle through the felt and then back again as he sewed the two pieces of scrap fabric together. It was strange how difficult this was, willing his fingers to move while simply pushing and pulling a needle. His jaw would tense as his hand shook at times and failed to grasp the needle, and then he'd hear you let out a sigh and he'd relax again.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Until the stitch was done.

Until he hushed the wild thoughts in his head and put his stress to bed.

Until he could no longer deny himself your company and he'd fall back to your side, finally delving into the depths of sleep.

He spent many days and nights like this, a fire ignited in his soul to hear your praise the first time.

"Seems like your stitched are getting tighter. Nice work there, Cap."

That was all he needed.

Your words. Your smile. The exigent that reflected in your beautiful eyes. You were proud of him, and it made him work all the harder as he sat with you in the room you had taken for your sewing. This place had been your sanctuary, something he once avoided entering to at least give you a little room for yourself on the ship, but now he found reassurance in it as well.

The whir of your sewing machine had become a comfort, able to drown out the buzz in his head as he worked beside you. Soft colorful fabrics lined the shelves in the wall and a half finished dress would decorate a mannequin or two. The both of you would drink coffee and chit chat as he tried to get lost in the motions of hand stitching pieces of scrap fabric together. 

He didn't want to constantly strain himself to move his arm.

He wanted it to be natural.

He wanted to use his hand without a second thought.

He wanted it to be like..

How it use to be.

But it could.. never really be like it use to be. 

And he struggled and struggled and struggled.

In the weeks that had dragged by, both you and Papyrus had picked up small gigs to help patch the hole his injury was leaving. 

Sans was... or had been.. the bread maker. 

He always prided himself on providing by running the docks, able to keep his rather lavish lifestyle alive by delivering cargo from overseas to sellers like the Fell brothers and the other croons of this city, but the two of you had insisted on him resting, so his businesses and trades had all but halted.

You were still far off from ever putting a dent in his savings, but the two of you worked regardless to ease his stress. 

..Because somehow, even having the back up funds prepared for events like this, didn't stop Sans from stressing.

The only part that annoyed him about it was that you had less time to teach him. You focused more on your commissions, so Sans would leave you in peace to your quiet room and stitch in his quarters.

He hadn't really decided what he wanted to work towards from stitching. It had simply become a tool to help train his fingers, so now that he could sew what was he suppose to do with the skill?

...

....

.....

It was a quiet afternoon in his quarters, the low hum of a forgotten radio on his desk as a deep voice rattled off the daily news mixed with a garble of static. Being so far out into the marine meant the reception wasn't good, but he could pick up key terms as the voice drawled on. Another murder on the west side, some more fights in the south and some re-election news. Not like it mattered who was in charge these days. The faces changed but at the end of the day these suits always lined their pockets with bloodied dollar bills. This city was rotted to it's core, just like it's people, and it'd stay that way until it was burned to the ground.

Sans' eyelights drifted down to the book in front of him.

'Stuffed Plushies For Beginners!'

The title almost felt condescending, just like the colorful pictures and simple wording that decorated each page. He still couldn't help but twist his frown deeper at the fact that you bought him a children's book of all things, paired with that sharp little grin of yours and that infectious laugher. It had been too much.. Which is why he snatched the damn thing out of your hands when you gave it to him. 

"To help decide what you want to do with your new skill! Maybe you can finally make something instead of just stitching scraps together you dork."

He would never turn down a challenge, especially from you, and he was eager to have your approval again.

"AND WHAT EXATLY SHOULD I SEW?"

"Just pick something you're interested in and sew it. They have a lot of animals in there! You do at least like one kind of animal, don't you?"

Dogs, because they were loyal.

Cats, because they could fend for themselves.

Birds, because of their freedom.

But making something based of them didn't quite appeal to Sans.

'Basic Plushie Pattern.'

...

"hey bro, i wanted to ask- oh my stars."

"AH-!" Sans inhaled, squeezing the doll in his grasp and nearly tearing at it with his claws. "YOU-! WOULD YOU KNOCK!?"

"you actually made a plushie of them. wow," his brother hummed, "and here i thought your obsession couldn't get any wo-"

WHOOMPH.

The pillow made direct contact with Papyrus' face, earning a laugh from the taller skeleton. Sans barked out a few more insults as his brother continued to giggle, admiring what he had finished so far. 

It.. looked like crap.

Some of the stitches were lopsided and others weren't uniform, but he wanted to see this through before his frustrations got the better of him. So with some encouragement from Papyrus he kept at it, finishing the body and then attaching the head.

"Pahahaha! Captain!"

"WHAT!?"

"You! Ehehe! You-! Of.. of me!"

"LOOK, JUST TELL ME IT'S TERRIBLE SO I CAN BE RID OF THE ACURSED THING ALRIGHT?"

"No! No. Absolutely not! I'm keeping this forever and you can never take it away from me!"

He gritted his teeth and attempted to wrestle the doll from your grasp but to no avail. You hugged it close and refused to relent, calling it precious and a testament to his efforts.

All of his hard work.. 

To a doll..

That looked like you.

"Are you going to make one of you?" you asked, letting out a few breaths as he finally gave up trying to grab the doll from your grasp.

"AND WHY WOULD I DO THAT?"

"Well I don't want them to be lonely."

...

How could he... ever argue with that.

So begrudgingly he sewed again, this time now more aware than ever of that 'thing' as it worked meticulously to create a replicate of itself. The doll's left arm, sewn together with a deep gray metallic fabric, now shared the same shame he did.

...

Strangely enough, it suited him.

...

"They look cute together."

"ONE ON THE RIGHT HAS SEEN BETTER DAYS."

"I still think he's pretty cute. He's trying his best, after all."

Well.. he certainly couldn't argue with that either.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (121/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[22 May, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

"Personal log, Dr. Topsas recording. Now then, where to begin...? I am still aboard the Emerald Eye in Federation territory. Luffa is long overdue to return for medical attention. What began as a supposedly 'quick' excursion to the Fedender System mutated into a tour across multiple planets that put my patient on the other end of Federation space. Luffa being Luffa, she has taken it upon herself to fight every battle on every planet along her way back to us. I have received some reports from hospitals in the field, and I am bracing myself for the worst.

"During Luffa's absence, I have stocked her star-yacht with medical-stasis fluid, and a healthy supply of regenerative medications. In the worst-case scenario, I will only have to keep her in stasis for two weeks, but I am constantly reminded of the old saying: "If you wish to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." No doubt, His Nine Eyes watch with great amusement as I prepare for Luffa's arrival, as I boldly tell myself that I have everything I need. Though, at the moment, I suspect there are a great many generals and warriors with haughty plans of their own, each producing their own fair share of divine laughter.

"Now that is a dark thought, that a benevolent God should find war to be humorous. I should really find something happier to dwell on in times likes these. Then again, it is my personal log, and I suppose I shouldn't run from a chance to express these kinds of feelings. Very well then. Let us talk about the war.

"I am hardly a military strategist, but it is my opinion that it goes poorly for the Federation. I would not consider any war to go well, but moral objections aside, this conflict seems specially designed to erode the morale of both sides.

"I know little of the so-called 'Jindan cult.' I have been told that Luffa's arch-nemesis, the Saiyan King Rehval III, founded the cult as a way to strengthen his hold over the Saiyan people. Using his arcane skills as an alchemist, along with the pseudonym "Trismegistus", he created a secret method to make Saiyans even stronger than they already are. This worked wonders for his cause, as Saiyans who would never serve a king were all too eager to trade their freedom for power. Now, he sends his followers into Federation space, launching senseless attacks on otherwise peaceful planets. His motives are unclear, though it certainly seems to be a continuation of his grudge against Luffa. As a Super Saiyan, she poses the greatest threat to his dominion over their species.

"What I have heard of these cultists is truly horrifying. Many are cynical warriors who only serve the cult for their own ends. Even so, they fear their master as though he holds their lives in his hands. I suppose that he truly does hold their lives in his hands, for Rehval has the power to withdraw the added strength he gives to his followers. At the slightest sign of defiance, he can drain their power, leaving then weaker than they were to begin with. In some cases, this process can be fatal, as Luffa discovered when Jolok was 'excommunicated' on Planet Quadzityz. Jolok perished, and a sizable piece of the planet very nearly shared his fate.

"The cultists who remain in Rehval's favor do so in a state of constant terror. Some have learned to mask their despair with religious zeal, while others rely on denial. All of them are experienced enough in the ways of war to know their true role in this conflict. They are not holy crusaders serving a higher purpose, as many of them claim. They are merely cannon fodder, a light brigade being sent to die as a mere diversion. Theirs is a simple choice: Die in service to their master, or die in defiance of him.

"I call them a light brigade because every battle fought in this war has resulted in a complete annihilation of Jindan forces. A one hundred percent casualty rate is unthinkable. Even the maddest of tyrants would blanche at such a statistic. It clearly is not sustainable, and yet Rehval continues to send his warriors, confident that he is safe from counterattack in his secret base.

"On the Federation side, a string of impressive victories carries little hope, for each battle leaves considerable death and destruction in its wake. Luffa and the Federation's other defenders have managed to halt the invaders at every turn, but they still manage to kill thousands, destroy important cities and military outposts, and cause ecological damage with their attacks. I think what frustrates the Federation in this hour is that they have no way to take the initiative in this war. They must simply wait for Rehval's forces to reveal themselves, and then absorb whatever losses they must until they can deploy their forces to fight off the invaders. Luffa's health is simply one facet of the bigger picture.

"Perhaps things will change if Luffa can find Rehval himself, but I have little confidence in this. She has already been searching in vain since-- eh?"

"Doctor! Come quickly!"

"What is it? I-- Ninth Eye!"

"Everything happened so fast that we didn't have a chance to fill you in."

"I should imagine. The rendezvous with the transport wasn't supposed to be for another twenty minutes."

"They got a distress call. Luffa convinced them to put her in an escape pod and drop her off so they could answer it. When I got the message, I pushed the engines as hard as they could go."

"Hey, I'm fine... really."

"Shut up, Luffa, and get on the bed."

"Okay, okay. Pushy lady. I guess that's why I married you. Hey, Doc. Sorry I keep... keep missing appointments."

"Please lie still. Would you hold that for me, Ms. Zatte? Please do calm down."

"I just... there's so much blood..."

"Yes, reopening old wounds, no doubt. I thought you were going to stay out of trouble, little mammal."

"So did I, Doc, but there was... was... an attack on Zerkus III and my transport was the only ship in the area."

"Zerkus III? Luffa, I'm so sorry, I, well, I had no idea--!"

"Relax, Dotz. They weren't Jindan cultists, so you probably... ow!... probably couldn't have predicted this. You were looking for Saiyan invasions, and this was a band of Zoons, trying to take advantage of the chaos. Thought they could pick on a planet further away from the fighting, but I made them regret it. Hah! You should have seen the looks on their stupid faces. Doc won't be putting them back together, that's for sure."

"I... I should have been able to predict that... even if they were Zoons, I should have..."

"Doctor, please, is she going to be all right?"

"That is precisely what I want to find out. I will get her stabilized and begin a complete examination. I think it would be prudent to take the ship somewhere safe, before any other enemies happen along."

"I can't just leave her like this--"

"Ms. Zatte, if there were someone else aboard who could handle it, I would not be asking you. With respect to Ms. Dotz's proficiency with the ship's helm controls, I do not believe she has the tactical knowledge to keep the ship out of danger in case of an attack."

"We don't need to run. I don't care how banged up I am. I'm still the Super Saiyan. No one would dare come after... ah... huh... and even if they did, I'd.... I'd...."

"Come on. You can't help her right now. The best thing we can do for her is to get back to the bridge."

"Dotz...? Okay. I know. You're right."

"Hey.... hey, where are they going...?"

"Not far, I assure you. Now, please. Lie still."

"Hey, Doc?"

"Yes?"

"I've gotta... gotta get back out there.... soon..."

"Yes well... I will see what I can do."

*******

[23 May, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

There was a small desk in the back of the star-yacht's sickbay, and Topsas positioned himself behind it while he spoke to them. As he lacked the necessary anatomy for it, he gave Zatte the chair, and she sat next to the nearest bed, with Luffa in it. Despite Luffa's objections, Zatte held her hand while he gave them an update on Luffa's condition.

He had repaired the most serious injuries, and she was in no immediate danger. One of her lungs had been punctured, and there had been a hairline fracture on her skull, and a few other life-threatening issues. That still left a lot of smaller ones that could worsen if they weren't treated properly. The young women looked at him eagerly, hoping for some quick answer that would allow them to get on with their lives. Being an arachnoid life form, he wasn't completely familiar with humanoid body language, but he had seen their faces on thousands of patients over the years, all silently pleading for him to tell them how long it would take to return their lives to normal. At times, he felt like a judge sentencing a convicted criminal.

"Two months of stasis," he began. "That is my first and most robust recommendation. You will be sedated and kept in a bio-regenerative chamber to promote proper healing. I would take you out of the chamber for an examination, and if all goes as expected, we could begin localized therapies on the damaged tendons."

"Two months?" Luffa gasped.

"In stasis?" Zatte said.

"Let me be clear,that would be a total of sixty days of unconsciousness," Topsas said. "That time need not be consecutive. Many patients do this for a few days at a time, coming out of the chamber to attend to personal affairs, be with their families, and so forth. But since your personal affairs always seem to involve extreme violence, I believe it would be best to keep you under until the treatment is complete. Better sixty days in a row than a hundred or more in and out of the chamber."

"Doc, the whole war could change in sixty days," Luffa said. "If you take me out of circulation that long, it could--"

"Ah-ah! Let me finish that sentence for you. If I were to take you out of 'circulation' for that long, it could prevent your enemies from taking you out of the war permanently. Where would your Federation be then?"

"He's right, Luffa," Zatte said. "If you keep throwing yourself into these battles, you're just going to get worse. You'd be playing right into their hands. You knew it from the beginning."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," Luffa said. "Look, I'm sorry. To both of you. I said I'd try to pace myself, and I really did try. But these attacks keep on coming, and every time I try to let someone else handle it, people get killed. I can't just stand back and watch... I mean, I know I have to, but..."

She screwed her eyes tightly, as though fighting back tears. When she opened them again, it was clear that she had failed. "I can still do more," she said. "I feel like crap, but I still have so much power that I can tap into. More than enough to make a difference out there. How can I stand by while people out there need that kind of help?"

"Luffa, some would say you have done more than enough already," Topsas said. "No one is asking you to resign from the war altogether. You mustn't feel obligated to risk your own health and safety like this. Not for persons you don't even know."

"Why not? It's what you would do," Luffa said.

"I?" Topsas thought she was joking. "You must have me mistaken with some eight-legged war hero. Perhaps a fantasy creature from one of the tales of your ancestors."

"Your modesty is sickening sometimes, you know that?" she said with a frown. "You remember the Tikosi planet, don't you? Because I sure as hell can't forget it."

"I don't see what that unpleasantness has to do with--"

"You rescued me... you barely knew anything about me, but Keda went to you for help and..."

"Merely keeping tabs on a patient," Topsas said. "I had used a considerable amount of webbing to stitch you back together, and I could hardly let that go to waste--"

As he said this, the gentle tone that represented Luffa's pulse began to speed up. Other readouts of her vital signs began to fluctuate. She began to breathe harder. Zatte tried to calm her down, and Luffa pulled her hand away from hers. And just when Topsas was about to move to check on her, she spoke again.

"I know... we don't talk about that day very much around here," Luffa finally said. "And that's mostly because of me. I was weak, and I have to live with the consequences of that weakness. But when it was all over, I turned into that thing for the first time, and I didn't know if I could turn it off, and you reached out to me, offering to help. I think that might be the bravest thing I've ever seen, and I refuse to listen to you brush it off like it doesn't matter. It matters to me. It matters a lot."

He didn't know how to answer that, and it was clear that she had nothing else to say. At last, it was Zatte who spoke. "Luffa, you've got to listen to Dr. Topsas. You can't go on like this. And if he had a better way, don't you think he would tell us?"

She looked at Zatte, then back at Topsas, and then turned her head away. "How soon can we start?" she grumbled.

"Today, if you wish," Topsas said. "I had the necessary equipment loaded on the ship while you were away."

"Hold on," Zatte said. "If we're doing this, we need to figure out where to take the ship while Luffa's under. We'll be vulnerable in the meantime, and if we set down on an inhabited world, we'll risk getting caught in an invasion."

This was not unexpected from her. Zatte came from a survivalist culture, and her she saw nearly everything as an arrangement of threats and safeguards. She was somewhat extreme in her thinking, but in this case her beliefs all converged on the most sensible course of action. She was certain that Luffa was destine to do good for the universe, which meant that Luffa had to be protected until she was healthy enough to resume that work. "Very well. I suggest you and Ms. Dotz devise up with an itinerary," he said. "I can sedate Luffa as soon as you feel it's safe."

"There's an asteroid field in the Pillimede System," Zatte said to Luffa. "We'll start there, and if Dotz doesn't foresee anyone following us, we can do a silent running for a few weeks." She stood up to leave. "I'll come see you before you go under, okay?"

"All right," Luffa said. "Just... all right. Let's get this over with." As soon as Zatte left sickbay, Luffa leaned back in her bed and let out a despondent sigh.

"I know this is difficult for you," Topsas said.

"It doesn't matter," Luffa said. "It's the only way, right? Sorry I blew up at you. If you don't want to brag about what you've done for me, that's none of my business. I just wish you saw yourself the way I see you."

"Ah, and that is my burden, little mammal," he said. Ambling over the desk, he crossed over to her bedside and began tucking her in. "With eight eyes, I have more than enough to see my flaws, as well as my strengths."

"Huh. Maybe you can see better than me, but the rest of my senses are pretty sharp. Maybe it's a matter of smell."

Eventually she drifted off to sleep, leaving Topsas to consider everything they had discussed. Later, he checked an experiment he was running on some tissue samples, and spent the rest of the afternoon monitoring Luffa's vital signs, while he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

********

[26 May, 233 Before Age. Pillimede Asteroid Belt.]

Zatte was true to her word, and when she was satisfied that the ship would be safely removed from combat, she returned to Luffa's side as Dr. Topsas placed her in the eight-foot-long chamber which would be used for the procedure. The equipment was somewhat bulky, but since there were only four of them on board, Topsas wasn't concerned about the space it took up in sickbay. He simply moved the beds away from one wall and placed the chamber on the deck. Once Luffa was inside, he filled with with a blue liquid commonly referred to as "stasis fluid". This was designed to not only surround the patient with the regenerative drugs he planned to use, but it would also sustain Luffa's metabolism while she lay in the chamber. Once she was sedated, the fluid was allowed to fill her lungs, as it contained oxygen-saturated perfluorocarbons. Topsas then went to the desk, where he began reviewing biofeedback data relayed from the chamber's sensors. Zatte knelt down beside the chamber for the next hour or so, before she finally stood up to leave.

"Sixty days of this," she said aloud.

"I do not wish to give you false hope," Topsas said, "but it is possible that she may fully recover sooner than expected. I will keep you informed, of course."

Zatte looked down at the chamber. "It shouldn't be like this," she said. "She should be out there, fulfilling her destiny. And I should be helping her, not just sitting around waiting for her to come out of this box."

"You are helping her," Topsas said. "It may not be glamorous, or even satisfying, but it is absolutely necessary."

"I'm sorry," Zatte said. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, it's just that... it's not enough. It's not fair."

"I thought your species was averse to risk," he said. "Keda always spoke so highly of being careful."

"I'm not like other Dorluns, Doctor," Zatte said. "And Keda wasn't being careful when she died. She saved my life."

"Of course."

"She never really saw Luffa the way I do, as a xan-nil'Dor, but I like to think that maybe Keda realized it at the very end. Either way, I think Luffa inspired her more than she wanted to admit. Well, Luffa can't do much inspiring from here, I guess."

She excused herself to check on the ship's systems, and Topsas thought he would welcome the silence. He did not. The gentle chirps of the biofeedback readouts only reminded him of the responsibility he now shouldered. And sooner or later, she would return, and the dilemma would follow. He had no consolation he could offer. Part of him wanted to tell her about the test results, but what good would that do? There were far too many unknowns to consider. He thought that Zatte of all people would appreciate that, but no. It seemed Luffa's wife would welcome a bit of risk if it meant getting her back on her feet.

Later, he checked his messages, and found that one of his children had attempted to contact him a few days ago. The terminal on his desk allowed him access to the subspace radio, and Zatte's encryption codes allowed him to send a message with little chance of it being intercepted or traced. Within minutes, he was looking at one of his own kind, though younger, and with a browner coloration.

"Dad," he said.

"Turner. This is something of a surprise," Topsas said. How are you, son?"

"I'll feel a lot better once you're out of Federation Space," Turner said. "There's a war on, or hadn't you noticed?"

"Now that you mention it, I had begun to suspect as much."

"I'm sending a ship to Woshad. I had to pull some strings to get it across the border, but I know some people, and the captain owes me a favor. They'll arrive next week. That should give you time to get to Woshad and get on board."

"Whatever for, son?"

Turner regarded him through the viewscreen and tensed his pedipalps in exasperation. "I'm trying to get you out of there, dad. Please, just get on the ship. Or if you've got some other travel arrangements, we can set up a rendezvous somewhere else. Just tell me when and where and we'll work it out."

"I'm afraid I can't leave at this time," he said. "I have a patient who needs me."

"Luffa," he groaned.

"You know I'm not at liberty to discuss--"

"Oh, come on, dad," Turner said. "It's the Federation, the one she founded, and you haven't stopped talking about that mammal since you gave up your practice on Plutark VII. And you know, for a while I was grateful to her for pulling you away from the Deathmatches, but now you've followed her into something a thousand times worse."

"It is hardly like that at all--"

"Then tell me what it is," Turner insisted. "Tell me why the almighty Federation needs Dr. Topsas to play medic in their warzone."

"She is badly hurt," Topsas explained. "The fighting has been very fierce, and if I do not mend her injuries from time to time, it could jeopardize countless lives."

"And they need you for that? You're telling me that you're the only qualified doctor in the entire Federation who can work on her?"

"I am the best qualified," Topsas countered. "Honestly, very few doctors are familiar at all with Saiyan medicine. And Luffa is a unique specimen among a unique species."

"And that justifies you running around in the middle of a war? Where are you right now?"

"I'd prefer not to answer that at this time," Topsas said. "It's not that I don't trust you, son, but if the enemy were to intercept and decode this message, they might find out--"

"Wonderful. Wonderful," Turner groaned. "So it's a matter of national security, is it? Should I contact the Federation Embassy, then?"

"I doubt they even know of my involvement," Topsas replied. "My presence here is somewhat unofficial. I've been told that my modesty is rather 'sickening'. Perhaps I should have requested a field promotion..."

"Enough! Dad, I've had all I can stand! Listen to me, you're not even a Federation citizen. This isn't your war!"

"She is my patient," Topsas argued.

"So what, then? You'll follow her until she dies?! Until you die?! Do you even care what that means?"

"Turner, please calm down," Topsas pleaded. "I appreciate that you are upset, but--"

"I'm upset because you care more about that Saiyan than your own family! Chelik and Lister called me, you know. They never call, but they heard about this war and no one had heard from you in weeks, and sure enough the last letter you sent was from Federation coordinates, just like before!"

"I assure you, son, I am quite safe here. If you like, I can contact Chelik, Lister, and the others to make certain they understand."

"Oh, they understand just fine, dad," Turner said. "That's why they called me. Because that's how this family works. Someone does something reckless or stupid, and then it's time to call in Turner to fix it. And why not? I've got Turner Polymer Industries, and all the resources that go with it. I can just hire a ship to go into a war zone and fetch you, no trouble at all. It's not like I have any problems of my own to worry about!"

"Son, if you need my help..."

"What I need is my father to stop running off on these ridiculous adventures!" Turner thundered. "I need you to listen to me, just once. Just once, and do the sensible thing." He held up one finger on one of his forelimbs as he said this. Topsas could see the desperation in his eyes very clearly.

"I promise you that I won't take any undue risks, Turner," he said. "I have friends here who are very careful about this sort of thing. But I must ask you to understand. I cannot leave just yet. There is simply too much at stake."

"This is about Nwitt, isn't it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Turner drew a short breath before continuing. "I know it was hard for you. It was hard for all of us. Ninth Eye, she was my sister! I miss her every day. We all do. But ever since she died, you've been getting mixed up with these lost causes, trying to save people that just aren't worth it! And maybe I should admire that. I've tried to, believe me. But I can't. If it's selfish of me, then I'm selfish, but I just want my father to come home and stay alive."

The words bothered him more than he liked to admit. "Son, I cannot just abandon others in their time of need. I swore an oath, and besides, we have a higher duty to people like Luffa. We have too many eyes to look away, and too many hands not to--"

"I know all that!" Turner said, very nearly shouting. "I read the Scriptures too, you know! I know Nwitt's in the heavenly web, and that one day we'll all be there to join her, and that we have to help where we can, but not this, dammit! If she were here, do you really think she'd want you to throw your life away like this?"

"I'll be all right, son," Topsas said. This was the most he had spoken with him in some time. Turner was normally so reserved, so quiet, ever the picture of the successful entrepreneur. And Turner had been angry with him before, but never quite like this. He regretted that he had caused his son such anguish, though he didn't fully understand how. He wished he knew some way to convince him.

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll be fine, probably," Turner muttered. "But what about next time, and the next? One of these days you'll go somewhere that even I can't get you out of. All for some 'Super Saiyan' I've never even met. And when the law of averages finally catches up to you? Well, I guess I'm just supposed to suck it up and pretend it doesn't bother me."

"I'm sorry," was all Topsas knew to say. It didn't seem to be enough. Turner had been an adult for a very long time. All of his children had grown up ages ago. Suddenly, Turner looked very much to him the way he did as a child, inconsolable over something that most would call trivial, but Topsas always knew meant the world to him.

"I don't want you to be sorry," Turner said, his voice now low and weary. "I just want you to get on that transport next week. Just come home, dad. Please. I don't want Luffa to suffer, or anyone else but... please. Just get on the transport."

"Turner, I--"

Turner looked somewhat embarrassed now, either by his outburst, or his pleas, or the emotions that had motivated them. "I have to go," he said. "I... Well, I've already said what I have to say. Just... I have to go."

And with that, he closed the transmission, leaving Dr. Topsas looking at his own reflection in the viewscreen.

*******

[28 May, 233 Before Age. Pillimede Asteroid Belt.]

"Am I doing the right thing?" Dr. Topsas asked. It was a loaded question, kept purposely vague, but he asked it over breakfast, as casually as one might ask for another glass of juice.

Dotz looked at him, and her eyes widened with anxiety. "Er, um... yes? I don't... well..."

She was a humanoid, middle-aged, with brown hair that was well on its way to grey. She claimed to have an ancestor of the Kanassan species, though Topsas had found no physiological evidence to support this, aside from her clairvoyant abilities, which could have been entirely coincidental. Taller and heavier than Luffa and Zatte, Dotz was far meeker, and it seemed that she was always pulling her arms close to herself and stooping her head, as though she was worried about taking up too much space. Her loose muave garments seemed designed to conceal herself further, and she was always adjusting her shawl like it was showing too much of the sides of her face.

"I'm speaking of the treatment I prescribed for Luffa," he explained. "I can't help but wonder if this is the right course of action."

"Well, I'm no doctor," Dotz said. "I'm sure whatever you've decided is the best. I know you've taken very good care of me since I got here."

"No, that's not..." Topsas paused and collected himself before continuing. "You've made some very accurate predictions, from what I understand. About the war."

"Oh, well... I didn't catch those Zoons attacking Zerkus III," Dotz said regretfully. "Luffa said it was okay, but I can't help but feel responsible for what she's going through right now."

"Yes, but the battles you have forseen have all come to pass," Topsas reminded her. "Luffa has spoken very highly of your talents, though I am at a loss to explain them. What I'm wondering is whether you've seen any major combat in the next two months. Something that only Luffa would be able to handle."

"Well, uh, you should really talk to Zatte about that," Dotz said. "There are battles going on all over the Federation border. She's been keeping track of them all, so we'll know where Luffa will be needed when she's ready."

"Yes but--!" Topsas steadied himself. It wasn't Dotz' fault that she wasn't understanding what he needed. She was only trying to be helpful in her own, unassuming way. "I don't wish to trouble Ms. Zatte," he explained. "I have just been having... second thoughts. I was hoping that you might be able to predict whether my decisions will turn out for good or ill."

"Oh, you want a reading," Dotz said. "I'll need to look at your palm for that."

"Fortunately, I am well-supplied in that regard," Topsas said as he extended one of his forward limbs across the table for Dotz to examine. It was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood. He thought humanoids were easily amused by the notion that he had so many hands and eyes, but Dotz didn't seem to notice what he had said. She simply took his hand and cradled it in her own, staring at it like a jeweler inspecting a diamond. While he waited, Topsas resumed eating with his other hands.

"You'll be going on a journey soon," Dotz said.

"That is rather self-evident," Topsas replied. "As I am on board a starship, and travel is inevitable."

"Mm-hmm. Family trouble. They're upset, but they aren't angry with you, just worried. And you'll be fine. One day they'll see that."

"Yes, well, that was hardly what I needed to--"

"In the end... oh, it looks like your wishes will come true. I wonder what that could mean. It sounds like a very happy way to die."

"Yes, but I have more immediate concerns," Topsas said. "The war. How long will it take for Luffa to recover? How many will die during that time? How many deaths could be prevented. You can see this, can't you?"

Dotz looked up at his face and shook her head. "I can't forsee Luffa's fate at all. I think that's why I missed the Zoon attack, because I was, uh, looking for visions of Saiyans in general. I should have been checking for Federation planets, but there's so many of them that it's hard to follow all of them."

"Are you saying that you can predict certain battles, but not whether Luffa will participate in them personally?"

"Uh, well, yes, that's right. And I can't always get the details right. Luffa's told me that sometimes there's more enemies on a planet than I predicted. Sometimes less. I can usually get the date right, but not always the exact hour. But she likes it that way. It makes things 'interesting', is the way she put it."

"Then you have no idea how long it will take her to recover," Topsas groaned. "Or whether I end up using some other treatment."

"Of course I know that, Doctor," Dotz said innocently. "You said it would take about sixty days, didn't you? And what other treatment could there be?"

"What indeed?" Topsas said. He began scraping sauce from the bottom of his bowl, determined not to look her in the eye.

"Something about meeting Luffa increased my psychic abilities," Dotz said, "but they still have, um, limitations. I learned a long time ago that there's a lot you can predict just by paying attention to the present. And I know you're a good doctor, and that you put your patients' welfare first. I don't need to look into the future to know that you'll do the right thing."

She stood up and started gathering their dishes. "Here, let me get those for you. You probably want to go back to sickbay to check on Luffa. Tell her I said hi. Not that... I mean, she probably wouldn't hear you, right? Unless she can hear people while she's asleep? I don't know all her powers."

Topsas handed off his bowl and steepled some of his fingers. He had just run out of people to talk to.

NEXT: Second Opinion