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[saiyuki!trek -- home]

“Captain,” Gojyo said, taking the headphones off his head and his feet off the console. “We got a message for you.” A heavily encrypted message from the fringes of the civilised world. This had to be good.

“A message?”

“Yeah, some planet on the arse-end of civilisation wants your attention. Gambling debts, do you think?”

“Where’s it from?”

“Sector TR-273, first quadrant.”

Goku’s face looked blank. Gojyo and Hakkai sighed in tandem. “Twelve light years away, Captain,” Hakkai said, bending to the screen. “It is one of the six planets in the Ekleipein system, the only habitable one.”

“Oh,” Goku said. “Son.” He picked up a pad, read the contents of the message (it was very short) and smiled.

“’s what they call it, yeah.” Gojyo flipped open the folder containing his haphazard notes from galactic history. “They don’t talk to strangers much, people are small and greyish, scaled and often sparkling, depending on diet and weirdly enough status. Planet is a member of the federation since someone asked if they wanted to join. Good at cricket, have awesome beer, if the imports are anything to go by. Please tell me we are taking a break there.”

Hakkai gave Gojyo a disapproving glare, which likely indicated that sex would be preceded by a lecture tonight. “There are three major countries,” he said, “each ruled by an elected official, but formally they are all a single nation. The export little, but their singers are among the finest in the galaxy. They cultivate a rich oral tradition, their operas are regularly staged by all races sensitive to their vocal range.”

“Yeah, they sing real nice,” Goku said, crossing his bare feet on the captain’s chair. The discipline and dress code aboard Shangri-La weren’t compliant with federation regulations. No one complained. “Sure, it ain’t like we’re expected anywhere, and if they call it’s probably important. Kougaji, change course.”

Kougaji probably did, but Gojyo skipped most of the basic spatial awareness classes, so he wouldn’t know anything about it. He focused on looking up the best breweries on Son, and where were the bars. He was just reading up on the quaint little pub just outside the government building, when Sanzo arrived at the bridge, angry for no apparent reason.

Gojyo mused at the strange way gossip travelled in space. True, they had teleportation and warp speed, but if anyone ever patented an engine run on gossip, all trouble with travel would be done with.

“What is this shit?” Sanzo asked, stopping before Goku with a scowl marring his pretty face.

“I… dunno?”

“We were due to dock on Lawrence in three days’ time, why are we changing course?”

“Um, did you have an appointment? We could turn back, ‘s no trouble.”

“I have been busy working up inoculations against the most prevalent STDs on the planet, no skin of my nose if no one gets the chance to fuck something ripe with them, but I do like to be informed that I’m working my arse off for no goddamn reason.” Sanzo fumed and growled and Gojyo’s grin got wider and wider.

Sanzo couldn’t wait to have an excuse to come and yell at Goku. A promising sign, as it indicated he was likely to get laid sometime this century.

“I got a hail from Son,” Goku said. “Dunno why yet.”

“Judging by the rest of the galaxy, they want to shoot you in the head,” Sanzo said, glaring an ensign out of his chair and taking his place. “Did you at least command the battle stations manned?”

“No, why? I know them. It’ll be cool.”

“Bespin was supposed to be cool.”

“That wasn’t my fault!”

“Yeah, I’m with Goku on this one. Bloody red-shirts had no call to be shooting, just because the creep looked like a demon crawled outta hell.” Gojyo flipped a couple of switches, closed his notes and leaned back. “Seriously, that thing looked like a living dead zombie.”

“There seems to be a logical inconsistency in your statement,” Hakkai said.

Sanzo rolled his eyes. “Don’t come crawling to me if someone shoots you for being speciest.”

“Yeah, right, I’ll crawl to the other qualified doctor on board.”

“You should, it needs practice.”

“Whatever.” Gojyo stretched and imagine the beer. He could almost taste it, foamy and sparkling. “When are we landing, and is there a chance for some down time?”

“Three days,” Yaone the navigator said.

“I would very much enjoy the chance to see an opera,” Hakkai said. “We should arrive at the approximate time of the winter culture festival.”

“Fuck that, I wanna get smashed properly. The beer we’ve got is horrible.”

“Sure, we got time,” Goku said.

“What is this, a fucking cruise?” Sanzo glared at everybody present, looking fucking gorgeous as only Sanzo could, at least until he started doing the disgusting rolling thing with his eyes. Fuck that, Gojyo thought, being a polymorph didn’t give him the right to be fucking disgusting. Far as he was concerned, polymorphs’ god given duty was to be beautiful, for his viewing pleasure.

“Chill. Son’s got the best goddamn beer in the galaxy.”

His untouchable hotness paused. “Bii is from Son?”

“You better believe it.”

“The fuck we are wasting time yapping about it, then?”

It took them two and a half days to get to Son. Official excuse was that the engine was brand new and they were in no hurry, but Gojyo was getting cranky. Normally he wouldn’t care, being stuck on the ship turned out to be a fucking blessing, but the promise of good beer did strange things to a man. Strange things indeed.

They killed the warp drive at long last, dropping some hundred thousand miles from the planet. Goku waltzed onto the bridge, wearing shoes for a change, but not his official “I am the motherfucking captain, bitch” blazer, which made him look like a ten-year-old playing dress-up. He opted for a casual black shirt, about two sizes to big, which made him look like a ten-year-old who’d ransacked his dad’s wardrobe.

“Hi,” he started his address to the ship. “We’re gonna be docking to Son’s space station soon. I’m just gonna speak with people for a minute and then, if it’s cool, we’re moving to docking at home system, and whoever’s free can beam down no problem. If you need more time then what you’ve got before your watch, work something out, I wanna keep skeleton crew aboard at all times, and I want to have everyone back in twenty-four, for further info.”

“You,” Gojyo said when the link was cut, “are the suckiest speech-giver I have ever heard, and I have studied the speeches of Syalaqs, who taught black holes to suck.”

“You would know all about it,” Sanzo said, folding his arms and turning to Goku. “What are you wearing?”

“I wasn’t exactly requested to be captaining here, I can wear whatever I want.” In his defence, whatever he wanted was pretty fucking hot, even if the shirt looked to be several sizes too big, the pants were juuust right.

His tail was swinging about his arse, fluffy as holly hell. Gojyo had been dying to pet it for as long as it’s been there, but the damn thing was eluding him.

“You can’t be from here, the natives are reptiles,” Sanzo was saying meanwhile, stupidly stuck on the insignificant details.

“What’s that gotta do with anything?”

“You’re a mammal,” Sanzo explained patiently. Goku blinked in his direction, fluttered his eyelashes over his fucking spectacular eyes -- no, Gojyo was not crushing on the captain, he was just appreciating the sexy, besides, Hakkai would kill him -- and scratched his head.

“I think so?”

“There’s no ‘think’ about it.”

“I kinda am from here,” he said, and only now did Gojyo make the connection. He was called Son, Son Goku, keeping in the local tradition of naming family first, individual second. Even more curious, it implied being orphaned, as children without a parent to claim them were given the name of the planet as a surname. A rather charming notion, Gojyo felt.

“Cute. So, which came first, you or the planet?” Gojyo asked, as they made their way to the pads.

“I dunno, really. Them, most likely, planets take a long time to cool.” Goku stepped onto the pad, whirled, and the tail did this funny twirl, wrapping about his legs and then rolling out, looking soft and pettable. Gojyo’s hands were itching.

Sanzo growled at him, deeply, from the chest, and it would have been hilarious, except he was doing the eye thing again and it was disgusting. “Chill, dude. He’s got a cute butt, can’t fault me for looking.”

“Indeed,” Hakkai said and, okay, yeah, Gojyo was never looking at the captain again. The little shit would get him killed.

“Energise,” Goku said in the direction of the ensign at the controls and the pads brightened and woosh, they were on the planet, staring up at the weirdly orange sky.

“Holy fuck,” Gojyo said.

“Awesome, ain’t it?” Goku beamed. “They got a sunset every hour.”

“I can tell the hangovers are going to be to die for. Where do they keep the beer?”

But unfortunately, the beer would have to wait, as there was a delegation coming to greet them. There were three really short aliens wobbling their way, followed by a whole crowd of similar creatures.

“Mama,” Goku said brightly, bending to lift the most officious one into the air.

“I take it he’s adopted,” Gojyo said.

“No, really, share the process that brought you to this conclusion.”

The creature (five feet tall, slender, hot in an alien kind of way, scales bearing traces of bioluminescence indicative of high status, not political, something like science, likely) sung at him, combing through his hair. She, Gojyo presumed, looked at the three of them, with a question in her eyes, and Goku replied, reaching tones no human throat should be able to utter.

What was really odd, the rest of the creatures kept a respective distance, and Gojyo was getting the feeling it wasn’t because the lady was their supreme leader, prone to taking heads off.

Finally there were introductions made, and the alien spoke in a strongly accented Standard. “Welcome,” she said. “We are happy to receive you.”

“We are honoured, madam,” Hakkai said.

“Come, I shall find for you accommodation.”

The two aliens that accompanied her moved aside, bowing deeply (far more deeply than the respect for the Federation should allow, Gojyo thought), muttering something under their breaths, a phrase he heard repeated over and over again, as they passed the crowds on either side.

“What's that they keep calling you?” Sanzo asked, raising a brow at the near reverence mixed with fear in some of the faces.

Gojyo looked at the sky. “Grrakhae bhgareesch hgi, allowing for local grammar and syntax, Woobie Destroyer of Worlds.”

“... what?”

“Literally ‘he whose pained anger lays waste to the space inhabited by living creatures, presently’.”

“Woobie?”

“Artistic license.”

Sanzo turned to the captain. “What did you do?”

Goku scratched his head, flushed. “I may ‘ve levelled a couple buildings when I first landed here.”

Hakkai gave him an approving look, which clearly meant the morals of the endeavour were dubious at best.

“I was a kid, I crash landed somewhere near a research facility, I was hurt and I look mostly human, so they pumped me full of drugs when I was half-conscious and I get pretty mental if I don’t keep myself in check.”

“Buildings?” Sanzo repeated. “I want a list of what drugs make you mental.”

“It ain’t like I do it all th’ time, I got control. Mostly.”

“List. On my pad. First thing in the morning.”

Goku looked down, smiled, nodded at a couple faces in the crowd. Then he seemed to remember something, and turned to his “mama”, to sing another question at her.

She gave him a bright, luminescent smile and waved at the door.

“What the fuck,” Sanzo said, when something very much cake-shaped emerged, lit with a hundred sparkling candles.

“Happy birthday, Goku,” she said.