Interlude 1: The Adventure of Spats

This story begins during Spats’s battle with the Earthling heroes on Cretaceous.

Her every nerve was burning like the ninth ring of hell, such was the strain of her desperation tactic. But it was successful; laying before Spats were the immobilized forms of Torta, Regal, and Gaita, and so she could claim victory. Her genius could not be questioned, and would certainly show Puttee what she was made of. With a grunt, she turned her Safety On again, and the burning subsided, unlike the pain.

She went for the last of the Dragon Balls, helpfully left out in the open by her sister’s overconfident crew. She was just seconds away from accomplishing a wish she had been holding onto for over a decade. A wish that, under other circumstances, Spats would have made with her sister. She couldn’t tell Puttee any of this, even as she yearned to.

“I’ll never let you give the king control of the universe!” Puttee said in a futile and misplaced tantrum.

Under other circumstances, Spats wouldn’t respond to this sort of outburst. “You would want my wish to come true, too,” said Spats between ragged breaths. “You share it.” Puttee’s expression changed, looking into Spats’s eyes. Though betrayal and years of pain separated the sisters, Spats wanted so much to share this moment with the only person who would feel the same as her. Spats could tell that Puttee had caught on, but even still, it was too late for words.

Then a strange alien descended in a Demon Clan ship. He killed the first Cretaceous Namekians that surrounded him upon exiting. “Stealing that Demon Clan ship was worth it,” he said with a smirk. “I get to slip in under the radar, and some other bunch of rubes has done the hard work already!”

“Who are you?!” Spats demanded to know. Not that she needed to; the ensuing battle was a foregone conclusion.

“I’m Hedarrow, warrior of the Saiyan Empire!” the man introduced himself. “I’m going to claim these Dragon Balls for my emperor, Daikon!”

Spats could barely move, but she still charged into the fight. She didn’t back down to anyone, especially kings and emperors. At first, she was pleased, as she could still overpower the alien, despite her weakened physical state. But then, the alien’s hair turned yellow, his power rating exploded, and she was no longer the superior figure. Things went black.

The next thing Spats remembered was another alien, seemingly of the same species as the last, talking to Puttee and her friends. The body of the alien who defeated her was laying in the ground, and the Dragon Balls were gone. “…the Empire was planning to put tracking nanites on the Dragon Balls,” said the second alien, “so that they could be tracked more easily. I actually have the signal for them, too; follow that, and it’s way more accurate than anything else on the market. But of course, that also means—”

Spats jumped to her feet and demanded what she would need to continue her mission. She didn’t actually recall anything she said or did, and it didn’t matter. She had to get those details.

What Puttee asked Spats was the next thing she did remember clearly. “Is this your duty to the crown?”

Spats was incredibly moved by this memory of happier times revived by her sister. “Yes,” Spats said after a pause.

“Give her the frequency,” Puttee said. “And if any of you don’t like it, I suggest you try to stop her now.”

Spats knew that Puttee had, indeed, figured out her game. She could feel the walls tumbling down, but it was not that moment. There was still the mission. She hardened her resolve.

This moment of sentiment made her space out again. The alien brought her back to attention. “…but why should I trust you? Spats, was it?”

“All I care about is the mission,” Spats said. “I…I have to keep doing this. The king gave me money, and I have my mission.”

It felt like this surprisingly attractive stranger was staring into her soul. “Ok, I guess it does help me if you have it,” he said. He pressed a button. “I’ll pass it along once the ship lands.”

Spats rushed into the ship as soon as it landed and headed for the control deck. The alien stepped in and booted up his files. “You know,” he said, “I get it. Living for the mission. That’s been my life, too. It helps if you have something besides the mission, though.”

“Just give me the frequency,” Spats said.

“Ok, ok. I heard a bit of their story out there, but I get the feeling you’re not really working for some despot. I like a woman with moxie like you.” He motioned to the screen, which had the frequency and related intelligence. Spats frantically memorized it. “I’m sure you know what’s motivating you, but some advice: Dig deeper.”

Spats left the ship without another word. She quickly rushed over to her own ship, ready to get back to her work. Before she closed the door behind her, she stopped, remembering how her sister backed her up a moment before. She turned to Puttee. “I’ll see you later,” Spats promised. She then got her ship up and running, and was soon in space, headed towards the nearest signal.

She took a moment to set her head straight. There was a long adventure ahead of her, and she was aware that there were a lot of other powerful enemies after the Dragon Balls on this new hunt. She was now alone, with only her own power, with an even slimmer chance of getting her wish granted. Not that now was too different than before. Alpha and Bravo were little more than drones; she didn’t even program them to talk. The entire mission, besides getting her wish, was to prove that she could make better technology than Puttee, and they were sufficient for that. She didn’t want dolls as friends, at her age. She had enough of that, tinkering with AI while trying to fulfill her father’s ridiculous request for her to recreate Puttee’s infinite energy generator.

With that thought came an image of Gaita, the Android Puttee clearly made out of loneliness from missing Spats. Somehow, seeing how the relationship between Gaita and Puttee was damaged and repaired, and then seeing Gaita wearing Bravo’s hair, made Spats question her first impression of the robotic mirror. Gaita and Puttee were not like Spats and Puttee, even as kids. There were so many ways Gaita was different than Spats physically, as well. She was clearly a new sister, though not Spats’s.

Once more, Spats set her head straight. The navigation had her two weeks out from the nearest ball. She had to assume that the enemies ahead would be more than what she’d seen before, so she would have to be careful as she moved. She didn’t want to get caught up in pointless battles; she never wanted to be a fighter in the first place. She wasn’t like Puttee’s muscle-bound friend, who somehow overcame her. She wasn’t like that Namekian they ran with, or like Gaita. Thinking back on it, she did feel a kinship with that new alien she met at the end. She warmed a little, recalling what he said, and realizing she wished he was flirting.

Spats slapped herself, determined to keep her head on straight. She went to the sick bay and began running scans on her body. As expected, turning her Safety Off caused severe nerve damage, which looked irreparable. There was also notable muscle and circulatory tissue damage, but much more easily healed than her potential nervous disability. Even still, she took to the task of fixing herself up as best she could, using all her bioengineering know-how. She kept at it for days as she flew.

A week after heading out from Cretaceous, Spats’s ship was hit by a powerful plasma charge. Pulling herself away from sick bay, Spats looked outside and found herself in the middle of a space battle between crafts of unknown design. Her engines were badly damaged, and hull integrity was dropping rapidly. She cursed herself for leaving the forcefield down while absorbed in detailed work. She had to land right away, or she would die before getting her wish. She was passing by a planet at the time, one with a habitable atmosphere, so she went for an emergency landing. She was reluctant to do so, since she knew the chances were high this planet was what the people who shot her were fighting over.

The landing was rough, but she managed to do it without causing more major damage to her ship. All around her, she found an ongoing battle, with ships like she saw in space on the field. She cursed and put the war front out of her mind, focusing instead on her ship and the damage it took. Spats got out and inspected it rapidly. She would need to make several major repairs, requiring her to find parts and spend at least a day working on it. All time she didn’t have.

Before she could turn to identify the nearest ship to cannibalize for parts, Spats was hit by a barrage of chi blasts. She stumbled forward and found herself being approached by a large squadron of aliens, from myriad species. It was a ragtag bunch, with only a badge identifying them as a group. Scoffing at their insolence, Spats got ready to tear through the whole group. There was no need for words; she recognized obstacles when she saw them. The average energy rating of the soldiers was even lower than Torta’s at their first meeting. With a few strikes, she took down the first few who approached her.

Another figure appeared, an enemy of those attacking Spats. This figure was covered in white, armored plates, with blue skin, and a vaguely reptilian appearance. Their body was adorned with green gem-like growths at various points. Their head was adorned with a crown of horizontal horns. With a calm but incredibly determined look, this newcomer tore through the attackers like paper.

Spats watched with caution as this strange alien landed near her. The alien raised a hand. “I’m Jockey, a traveling Frost Demon,” she introduced herself. “Can you get off planet? You have no chi, and outsiders are easy targets. I don’t want you getting hurt. This battle is my problem.”

Spats could not have cared less about any of this. “I don’t need anyone telling me to get moving!” said Spats. “Get away from me! I don’t want more of your enemies becoming my enemies!”

Jockey began to respond, but was interrupted. More enemy soldiers arrived, attacking the pair with chi blasts. Spats flew away from her ship to protect it, and away from Jockey to avoid being lumped together. “There’s Jockey!” one of the soldiers said. “And an ally of Jockey!” Before Spats could respond, he destroyed her ship. In a rage, Spats annihilated the entire troop.

Spats approached Jockey next. “You idiot!” she yelled, venting her anger. “I don’t need your ‘help,’ and your ‘help’ just dragged me further into this warzone! I have a mission to complete!”

Much to her surprise, Jockey wilted and looked incredibly pained and guilty. “I’m sorry for my mistake,” said Jockey. “I…I don’t want anyone getting hurt in this battle.”

Something about the look on her face struck a familiar chord for Spats. She felt some connection between them. She sighed. “What’s going on here, then?” she asked. “I should know what I’m stuck in.”

“Well, I’m here to bolster the defenses of this planet,” said Jockey. “It’s being attacked by an invading army that wants to control the industrial resources here. The invading general is named Bever, who works for…a really dangerous man. This planet will fall without me.”

Spats squinted in suspicion. There was clearly something important Jockey wasn’t telling her, but a quick scan of the area told her the gist of it was true. The soil looked rich in minerals and there were signs of mining all around them. “I’ll help you end this invasion fast,” Spats told Jockey, “if you promise to get me a ship afterwards.”

“Thanks,” Jockey said quietly as an energy wave hit her in the back of the head.

“You traitor!” the attacking soldier said. “You’ll never ruin our plans!”

Jockey prepared to engage with this soldier. “Stop!” said another man. He was a tall alien with red skin and prominent horns, wearing military-grade armor. Even relaxed, his power rating was nearly as high as Spats’s.

Jockey’s reaction told Spats not to be surprised at the introduction. “Bever…” Jockey said.

“I’ll kill you myself,” Bever said with a sneer. “None of my soldiers are up to the task, after all.” Bever quickly rushed in at Jockey while the previous soldier attacked Spats. Though he was tougher than the others, he was no match for the Android. He was joined by a large group of elite soldiers, and so Spats was stuck working her way through another squad of cannon fodder, the quintessential reason she found fighting to be a pointless bore.

Looking over, Spats found Jockey to be in over her head against Bever. Jockey’s own power rating was equal to Spats’s, but Bever’s was far higher, and he was effortlessly beating her into the ground. He grabbed her by the neck and choked her, a look of extreme pain on Jockey’s face. “You’re a fool for thinking you could beat me in that form,” Bever said.

Despite herself, Spats felt an urgent need to rescue Jockey. With a quick burst of energy, Spats did away with her last attacker and kicked Bever across his jaw, causing him to release Jockey. She then flew to Jockey and activated her forcefield, keeping the bewildered Bever at bay. Raising a hand up, Spats released a large flash of light, enough to blind Bever, and with her retreat guarded, Spats flew Jockey away from the battle.

“What are you doing?” Jockey asked once in safety.

Spats cursed at herself. “I don’t know, either,” said Spats. “I just couldn’t watch you die.”

“I can’t die from choking,” Jockey said. “My people can survive in space. It takes a lot to kill me.”

Spats continued to beat herself up for being sentimental, but was interrupted when Jockey attacked her. Spats defended. “What are you doing?!” she demanded.

“I have to get you out of the way!” Jockey said. “Otherwise, you won’t let me fight Bever.”

“Yeah, because he’s going to kill you!”

“I have to fight him! No one here can beat him.” A tear welled in Jockey’s eye. “This will not be another world for him to conquer. I won’t fail in my mission.”

“Look, I’m an Android. I have unlimited energy and a forcefield. I can help you. He’ll run out of steam, and then—”

“No, drawing out the fight will encourage Bever to ignore us and slaughter civilians.”

Angry, Spats attacked Jockey, wanting to slap some sense into her. However, her nerves rebelled against her, causing her body to go into spasms. Jockey helped her to stabilize. “Are you ok?” Jockey asked. “Are you sick?”

“Be quiet,” Spats commanded. “I can manage. If we team up, we can beat Bever, and any civilians he kills in the battle will be less than if he controls the planet, right?” She winced, wondering if she would ever regain full control of her nerves. Spats got up. “He’s going to want to kill me now, too, so I’m going to fight anyway. I have an ace in the hole, so I know I can beat him. No matter what’s in front of me, or what I do to myself, I have to complete the mission.”

Hearing this, Jockey became fearful. Before she could say anything else, Bever landed with a growl. “I am beyond annoyed with your little trick, Earthling!” he seethed. The two women took stances as Bever rushed in. He quickly beat Spats down, forcing her to activate the forcefield. Once she had, he turned his attention to Jockey, keeping Spats at bay with chi blasts. He laughed. “Your still living head will be an excellent gift for your brother, Jockey!”

Hearing these words, everything about the battle and Jockey’s behavior clicked for Spats. Like her, Jockey was from a family of warmongers, in this case headed by an older brother, and she, too, carried the burden of all the blood incurred by her family’s soldiers. Spats looked again at Jockey and saw what she would be like if she were strong enough to rebel against her father, instead of being so fearful of failure that she played along, blaming her runaway sister for all her problems.

Spats flew in, dodging Bever’s blasts, and tackled him off of Jockey. “I’ll win this fight for you!” Spats said. “I don’t care what you have to say about it!” Nerve spasms wracked her body. “If I fall here, I was never worthy of my mission, anyway.”

Bever charged back in, laughing at her confidence. Spats put up her forcefield to buy time and, steeling herself for the pain, turned her Safety Off. Once more, the sheer, unimaginable, ever-growing volume of energy coursing through her body lit her up like a solar flare. She collapsed from the recoil on her nerves. Dropping the forcefield, Spats stood back up. “I’ll kill you,” she said with quiet confidence. Bever was suspicious of the change, but charged in anyway. Spats effortlessly blocked his strike and assaulted him with a devastating barrage.

Jockey looked to Spats with awe. Then she noticed the look of extreme anguish and pain in her eyes, and through the blur of Spats’s speed, saw how much her body was trembling. Jockey knew that if Spats kept this up, she would die from her own pride before she was killed by anyone else. It was Jockey’s turn to handle things, and her new friend’s courage gave her some, as well. “Power down,” Jockey said, putting a hand on Spats’s shoulder. Spats turned to her in protest, but saw a completely different person. This new Jockey was a little taller and much more muscular, such that she was proportioned like someone short and stocky. Her armor looked thicker and had spikes in various places. Her power rating was several times what it was before. Bever, too, looked shocked and afraid.

Spats turned her Safety On, feeling an unbelievable cooling sensation as the heat died down. Jockey walked past her towards Bever. “I could have always killed you in an instant,” Jockey said, “but I was afraid of my own power. It always controlled me. But I guess I don’t need control, do I?” With a laugh that betrayed bloodthirst, Jockey assaulted Bever, and their positions were reversed. Bever was helpless against Jockey in this massive, aggressive form. She laughed as she broke bones all over his body. “I’ll cause you as much pain as you’ve caused others under Esky’s orders!” she cried. Jockey charged energy at the end of her finger.

Bever spat on her. “I refuse to die by the Horror Beam!” he said.

Jockey cruelly laughed. “You don’t get a choice!” she said. With a single thin but powerful burst, Jockey fired a hole through Bever’s head, killing him instantly. She then turned to the battlefield. “I’ll end this war right now, too!” Jockey raised her hand and charged up a massive energy bomb, with enough strength to blow up half the planet.

Stunned, Spats flew in front of Jockey. “Stop!” she said. “Remember why you’re fighting! I refuse to let you be the villain of this story!”

Jockey scowled. “I don’t care about the cost,” she said. “As long as Esky doesn’t get this planet, I’m happy!”

Jockey nearly threw the bomb. “Are you angry about what your brother has done,” Spats asked, “or that you have to fight your brother?”

Her resolve broke, and Jockey powered down her attack. She fell to her knees. “I never wanted my family to be my enemy,” she said. “But he’s leaving me no choice. It’s like…he always had ambition, but he was never this motivated, never so insightful, never so brutal. A flip switched in him one day, and he’s left me no choice.”

Spats put an arm on her shoulder. “You still get to choose how to fight this battle.”

Smiling, Jockey reverted to her previous state.

The remaining soldiers were left in chaos without their commander. Those in positions of authority tried to marshal their forces, but it was to no avail. Jockey and Spats charged the field. With a concerted effort, the two cleared the area of all of Bever’s soldiers by the next morning.

After some rest and an unwanted celebration from the army they assisted, Spats and Jockey perused the leftover ships. “Will you be fine on your own?” Spats asked Jockey.

“I’ll figure it out,” said Jockey. “Seeing you so willing to destroy yourself for me, I felt so cowardly for not wanting to use my power. Now it’s time to control it. I do wish I could help you with your mission, though.”

“We’re on different paths,” Spats said. “I appreciate the offer.”

Eventually, Spats settled on a medium-sized vessel with a good mix of speed and facilities. She got in and prepared it for her occupation, and entered the frequency for the Dragon Ball nanites. She stuck her head out before she left. “One day,” she said to Jockey, “after my mission is over, I’ll come help you with yours.”

Jockey smiled. “I’ll always welcome you as a sister on the battlefield,” she said. Spats allowed herself to admit she was touched. “If I manage to finish first, I’ll join up with you.”

With a final wave, Spats left Jockey, a sense of hope and purpose rising within her as her ship rose into the air. No longer was Spats satisfied simply proving she was worthy of anyone else’s attention; she had to be fit to carry out her own dreams.

All original story, all original characters! Check out Dragon Ball ‘Redux’!

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