Chapter 30: Wet Work.

My heart was hammering. The adrenaline still pumped through my veins even as the minutes passed. At some point they had started cleaning up the mess with a callous practiced ease befitting a pirate. The mass of flesh and bone was beaten and pushed back with the hammer's wielded by the mecha. It was somewhat disturbing to see them flatten the meat with loud meaty squelches and use their hammers like glorified brooms.

Bodies, or what bodies we could reclaim from the mass were set aside. A few pirates stood giving them a silent vigil. The only outward signs of grief being their stiffness, or perhaps the new marks on their armor or weapons. Carved initials, names, or even faces drawn from the more talented. Even then, I felt a sense of accomplishment, a will to keep on moving.

The techies were working to refill what they could. Boarder was discussing with a few of them how best to distribute was left. More of them were working on trying to contact those in the hangar or open the doors with little success. I could feel the life signatures pulsing from above, the massive mass in the center was unmoving oddly silent.

"Alright captain?" I nearly jumped out of my skin as Boarder spoke to me as I was distracted. I take a moment to center myself before speaking. Keeping my eyes shut as I continue to scan.

"I'm good… Just trying to figure out what those things are." Pale white, like stone. Bone perhaps?

"Clones." He said without any hesitation. "Only a clone would be so pale. They likely have never been exposed to natural light. It's a common problem for anyone that lives in space for extended periods. Which is why stations or ships tend to have sun decks for people to take in what they need. Our ship doesn't have one, mainly because we are too small for it, but we get what we need at the stations we stop at.

Not that you'd know, since you've never left the ship really."

He gave me a pointed glance to which I shrugged. "Not like I ever felt like leaving."

He sighs. "Well, at least we avoided the possibility of an idiot pissing you off." That made me chuckle a little.

"Are clones that strong though?" I don't think I've seen clone tech being, common.

"Nope. Clones are rarely used because they tend to be weaker than normal. Weak immune systems, poor musculature system, and such. And to negate those weaknesses you're better off with more natural methods. After all, the universe doesn't lack bodies to use. Of course, clones do have uses for some companies, but they do cost a lot. Not something an ordinary layman would have laid around."

I nodded to that, my eyes glancing over the pirates as they worked and moved.

"I'm shocked they handled that so well." I murmured.

"What did you expect? Their pirates." I looked at him in confusion.

"Pirates never go quietly. Especially when cornered. If anything, they fought harder because the doors had sealed behind us." He continued as I still looked at him weirdly.

"Pirates are ostracized throughout the whole universe. A typical policy with pirates is extermination. No negotiation, no bartering. Pirates are considered less than humans, or in some cases less than even wild animals. Pirates always meet poor ends when they are taken prisoner due to this. Used as test subjects, tortured and beaten. Laws, even universal laws don't matter when it comes to pirates."

"Then why would anyone want to become a pirate?"

"Very few choose the pirate life willingly. Often forced into it due to circumstances. A soldier denying his superiors orders to commit genocide. A captain unwilling to abandon refugees. A trader framed for crimes he didn't commit. Or sometimes just being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"And you?"

"Want a beating captain?" I laughed.

"Not like you could beat me."

"I suppose that's true… Still, most pirates won't say why they joined. Not even under threat of death. It's like, a festering wound nobody wants brought attention too."

I nodded to that and looked over the pirates with, well, hardly a different outlook. If anything, maybe a tinge more respect.

"Well, Instructor told me his story."

"He's… different. Is all I'm going to say." He took a moment to collect himself and barked a few more orders off before turning back to me. "What's the plan now captain?"

"I'm thinking of flying up and checking out what's going on. If anything, I could buy time for us to set back our defenses."

"Should we expect another tide?"

"No. Their numbers are… significantly less."

He nods relieved. "And are you sure your fine?" I looked at myself. Covered in cuts and still healing wounds. "It's nothing much. A few ration bars and I'll be as good as new."

"Can you handle them?"

"I can fly away if there are too many for me. And it helps that I won't have to bodycheck them or protect anyone." He chuckled at that.

"True, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they start worshipping you after that little display."

"Just a little?" I say in jest, opening my eyes to look him in the eye.

He gives me a smirk, "Yup, just a little."

We both stood around, him occasionally giving orders before he came up close, almost conspiratorially and spoke.

"Is that… what you used against the other ships? From before?" He said in a hushed voice. Before? Does he mean?

"No. Galick Gun is more a railgun thing. What I used before was called a Kamehameha or something."

"Can you explain, uh, how that works?" He seemed sheepish. Well, I would love to do so but... This could be sensitive information, but… Meh. I went ahead and explained it as best as I could.

"Mm… So, a particle lance?" I wasn't sure what that was. "Simply you take a particle put it through a highly energized magnetized barrel and launch it. Usually, a highly dense particle or something. Often used as the main guns for destroyers and such. Whereas your Kame sounds close enough to a Plasma lance. Different from a particle you take a ball of energy or plasma and shoot it forward. The difference being that you need to keep feeding the plasma to keep it going, but it is more powerful. Just takes a shit ton of power that only the biggest of ships can maintain."

Interesting to hear how they could explain how my ki attacks worked, scientifically, or a approximately as they can. Frustrating though to learn my abilities aren't wholly new or special, but I mean, I was borrowing them in the first place… without asking to boot… But that's the same thing, right? Akira Toriyama, won't mind right? I highly doubt Goku or, well maybe Vegeta, but honestly nobody copies his moves anyway. Well, except me… Huh…

Ugh, just thinking about the creator of Dragonball gave me an odd existential crisis. I was a Saiyan, using signatures moves from Goku and Vegeta, and other less important people. In some ways, it didn't feel real. Or rather, it felt like even with the Director behind everything it was like, like, that with a single word the original creator could simply make me cease to exist. Which is silly, me and him are separated by a whole other realm of existence or dimension or something. Still… Wouldn't hurt to give him some cred when I get the chance, like praying to a deity… Kinda… Maybe?

Nah… too much work, but… maybe… Rather this whole situation, seeing the dead and the piles of slowly compressed meat was doing quite the number on me. Why else would I be considering my own existence? Instead, I should be focusing on what I was brought here for, kicking shit in!

My crisis over, or at least delayed. I go over and chow down on a few ration bars and fly up one of the elevator shafts. The distance was… somewhat considerable. But when I hit the top of the elevator, I found an open hole made by crunching the doors and peeling them away from the entrance to said elevator.

I wasn't sure what to expect. Whatever I was expecting, wasn't anything close to what I saw. The area was a huge open area. Like, almost like a massive square for festivals in the middle of a city. Dozens if not more elevators led into the area creating a series of structures. Beyond that was a massive open area filled with… war. From all corners I saw those clones, mutant things charging forward like a living wall.

What was more terrifying was what was fighting them. A prime example of quantity versus quality. More armored figures, but vastly different. Some were wearing what looked like power armor, but others were thinner. Those thinner ones slapped aside any belief of them being the surviving crew. Muscle and pulsating flesh fused with machine. The bones underneath replaced with hydraulics and machinery. Their eyes replaced with scopes or other such things.

The weapons they wielded varied based on size. The smaller ones wielded smaller weapons that handled the chaff, whereas the larger almost 9-foot giants clunked with massive guns that belched out fiery slugs that minced all in their trajectory. The centerpiece of this massacre was a massive behemoth. Its form oddly familiar. A massive box on legs that clunked around. A hand with a massive chainsaw that whirred and diced through flesh with ease. The other hand had a weapon attached to it, that could easily pass for a cannon.

It was obvious, at least now, that the big thing I had killed was likely to keep this monstrosity in check. Yet, why had they sent it down the elevator? It seemed stupid, but then again…I highly doubt they planned for me to shoot the equivalent of a destroyer's main gun. I mean, what sane person would even think you'd carry around something like that!?

The issue was, if the cloned mutant things were no longer being a threat, could we handle the power armor zombies? Just one look at their armaments sent a resounding no. They'd likely shred our mecha down to the nuts and bolts. Whilst turning our whole party into a fine mist. Unfortunately, I was flying while considering all this. Which was a very compromising position. A position one of the robot zombies saw.

Almost as one the front line of the zombies turned towards me; I didn't think. I moved. I ripped and tore into their lines. Using their bodies as shields as the power armor zombies open fired… I wasn't sure if it was accurate to call them zombies, seeing as they bleed and have beating hearts. Maybe a more demented cyborg, but with less consciousness. I'm sticking with zombie.

The question of what to call them distracted me from my grizzly work. Metal and blood ripping out and splattering about as I moved. Bullets and slugs near the size of my head hit the armored zombie I was using as a shield, its body only barely holding back the massive slugs as the force transferred to me.

I threw my spent shield at the closest power zombie and closed the distance, the thing kicking out. I reoriented myself with my flight, narrowly dodging the lumbering kick, the force creating a strange ripple along the floor as it stomped down. I lashed out, slamming my fist into the junction of its knee. I held nothing back as I felt something crack under my might.

It still wasn't enough to disable the thing as I maneuvered around its crazed swipes, its leg limping yet still carrying its weight. I struck at weak points, using my hands like a spearhead to puncture and push in weak points. The thing slowed, only after dozens of leaky wholes in its chassis. Its body was covered in dents from all the bullets I forced it to sponge as I danced around it. I slam my fist into its back, ripping open its tin can only to see a horror show.

Multiple hearts beat within. Multiple bodies worth of muscle and organs melded to metallic bones and joints. I didn't even punch it. I shoved my hand in, ignoring the disgust as I blasted it full of energy. It's squishy insides nothing to my ki. With a rattling sigh, it stopped. Blood spurting out of its frame from the concussive force of a contained blast. Blood and gore gushing from the holes in the armor.

I felt no pleasure as I continued to dismantle the power zombies. Only a growing sense of distaste and disgust at everything around me. My heart hammered, but not in anticipation, not for the fight as I continued to bat away the zombies. Not even as I ripped apart cloned mutants. Using their scythed limbs as impromptu weapons to speed up my bloody work.

This wasn't a fight. Not one I could get behind. Nor was this a massacre I could enjoy. This was just killing without the flair. What was the point of killing these mindless things? It was a huge turn off knowing they weren't even sentient really.

It was a chore really, not even the prospect of facing the giant metal zombie could pump me up as the thing whirred and clunked. Viscera dripping off its saw edge and frame. Gummy bits stuck to its tripod like feet. It didn't even roar or scream as it charged. A hiss of hydraulics being the only sound as it ramped towards me with a single thought, to kill.

I didn't body check it. Its body was too large and the force it had shown in the moments prior acted as a deterrent. I floated around it. Moving around the waving limbs and the body sized slugs it fired. Weapon fire pinged off its armor and mutant clones struggled to scrape at its unbreakable armor. How it even managed to reload made me wonder, but seeing it pick up a dead body and ram it into the top of it. The sound of grinding sending my spine tingling as waste meat poured out of chutes from the back gave me an idea how.

My first hit… did nothing. The heavy metal frame barely budged or dented as I punched out. All I got in return was an ache in my arm as I maneuvered around the slow thing. Its movements were jerky, but not made for fly swatting. A frustrating comparison to my current situation.

My constant hits accomplished little. Energy blasts did little more than splash along the things armored frame. I considered more drastic options. But the idea of jumping into the grinder on its top, like some demented paper shredder was a big no-no. And I wasn't about to try and shove myself up its waste chute either. Ignoring the possible innuendo, I didn't want to try and force myself through. Best case scenario I turn out fine… worst case I get my ass stuck in it and find myself stuck. I highly doubt anyone would help me get out and I'd likely get drowned in meat before I get forced out… Not a pleasant way to go.

Which meant, saw time… I launched a series of Destructo Discs. Gesticulating wildly to control the saw blades to avoid the things windmilling arms. Wincing every time one of its arms would hit the flat side of the saw and just break it. The few that hit sparked and scratched into it for a few seconds before dispersing with the teeth spent. Even then, it left very faint visible marks on its otherwise impenetrable armor. I felt my ki getting lower and lower. Almost dangerously low as I kept trying to carve up its frame. I try to focus on the legs, but it deflects the saw blades more often than not.

Ghastly cuts ran along its armored frame by the time my ki was too low. Blood leaked from those wounds, not much, but enough to tell me something important was there. I considered trying a Soul Howl, but… none of these things had souls really. Their minds and bodies are pushed only by instinct or machine. Which meant soul damage was worthless.

Either way, I was running low. Even flying was getting difficult and to save ki I found myself running along the ground. Trying my best not to slip and slide on the blood and meat that made up our arena. Some of my cuts had hit the joints. Not enough to break them, but enough that I felt I could probably break the limbs off with a little plus ultra.

Which… was going to hurt. Already I could hear the second wave of bodies coming in. The clanking of metal on metal, and the screams of mindless mutant clones. Gritting my teeth, I blasted my ki propelling myself forward at max speed. Focusing on a single point as I moved through the storm of windmilling arms, the bloodied saw blade passing right before my face by mere millimeters. I slammed with the full momentum of my speed and body behind the blow.

Two distinct sounds reached my ear. The faint sound of metal cracking, along with the crackle of multiple bones throughout my arm breaking. I felt the pain, acknowledged it. Relished it as weakness leaving my body. But my moment was short as I slid into a turn. The massive hulk before me turning, the moment its weakened limb hit the floor, the cracked and cut limb groaned ominously. Only breaking as it charged forward. Breaking midstride. Its body slammed down and slid presenting before me the massive grinder of a head.

I ignored the shooting pains coming from my broken arm as I forced it to make a fist. I slammed forward, baiting its hands to flail towards me, the chainsaw digging into the floor and failing to dig in as it vibrated frantically only to fail at the last minute, the floor giving in to the blade's onslaught, just as its teethed edge and whatever mechanism inside broke free. Perhaps in a moment of controlled chaos, a moment of serendipity or such. The freed bladed chain went flying into the grinding maw…

I barely had the chance to witness the incredulous situation before I slammed myself behind the limb stuck fast in the floor as it seemed to mold around the now edgeless saw. My instincts crying in a furious rage as the grinder chomped up the saw blade and immediately seized. It made a herculean effort, but metal bits and sharp teeth shot like projectiles. Hitting the floor with such force I could imagine it perforating my body with how deep it penetrated into the floor.

Its other limb, the gun limb spasmed as its circuity went haywire. I turned to look into its grinding maw once I stopped hearing the sound of sheared metal. The once spiked maw now bald-ed and wrecked. Taking the chance with the sound of the oncoming hordes as my backdrop I flew down its gullet. Bloody blades scraping along exposed skin, making me somewhat glad Saiyan's didn't have to deal with tetanus or blood poisoning…

They don't… right?

Not smart, but I immediately pass through a small what must have been a type of thresher that was now shredded thanks to the chain blades. Just the slightest touch of the twisted and shredded metal is enough to cut. I maneuvered past as the thing jerked, likely starting to wake as I came and went past what must have been a type of fabricator, which was now ruined as well. Perforated by small holes and definitely useless now. I worked past it to the heart of the machine, literally.

It was almost as bad as the multi-limbed worm thing, the Maniworm! As I dubbed it in a moment of introspection to escape the horror of what was before me. Inside was a carefully constructed heart. Stitched together with countless other hearts. It beat weakly. Each beat expelling blood due to the various sharp bits in it. Blood vessels pulsed with each beat. The entire interior coated in nerves and muscle.

I blasted it… Only to find it absorb the ki and my own ki was already too low to handle this in a civilized manner, denying my deepest wish to simply vaporize this horrific sight from existence and my mind. Frustratingly, the heart was just the right size for punching. Which meant I had beat it, I winced with every impact. The flesh bruising and something inside wheezing and gurgling with each hit. It was pure nightmare fuel. The sound, the way my fists impacted it as I forced myself to kill it faster. Using my hands to jam into weak points and tear it apart.

I only stopped when the whole thing just stopped with a sound of something popping followed by the small sound of something leaking. The slow steady sound only made it all the more real. I felt sick as I pulled myself out of the hulk. Just in time to see reinforcements about to clash. I burst out using the last of my ki to slam into the elevator I had come from and worked my way down to the pirates I had left.

They had setup lines, nearly shooting me as I blasted down. Nobody spoke as I smashed down before the barricade. Power walking to a corner to curl up, trying to purge my mind of that things heart. The filthy energy bleeding off of it. I hugged my knees to my chest. Trying not to think of it as I drifted to sleep, exhausted and tired. Trying not to remember the sound of its horrific heart squishing under my fists.

It didn't work very well...