The ship didn't launch dramatically.
It didn't shake.
It didn't roar like the starships in old movies that tried to convince you something important was happening.
Instead, the only sign that we were moving was the tiny red dot on the navigation screen slowly sliding across a black map of space, as if the destruction of an entire planet had been nothing more than a task quietly checked off in a military schedule.
That alone left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I remained seated, my back pressed against the cold metal wall. Across the narrow room, the other three Saiyans behaved with an ease that made my stomach twist.
The bald one had his eyes closed again, like he had decided to take a nap.
The lean one was still fiddling with his scouter, tapping the glass every time a number appeared that he didn't like.
The tall one—the one who seemed to be leading this unit—had barely blinked since we entered the chamber. His gaze stayed fixed on the door like a guard dog that didn't trust even the walls around it.
And me?
I sat there breathing slowly, trying not to look like a man who had fallen out of another world less than an hour ago.
Unfortunately, my body wasn't making that easy.
Everything about it felt disturbingly familiar.
The way I sat.
The weight of the armor on my shoulders.
Even the tension in my legs felt instinctive, like this body already understood that weakness was a death sentence in this universe.
And yet there was still a faint disconnect.
I moved.
But it sometimes felt like I was watching someone else use my arms.
My hands.
My breath.
I lowered my eyes to my fist.
Then slowly closed it.
The raw current stirred again.
Ki.
It wasn't an illusion.
It wasn't panic playing tricks on me.
It was there.
Low. Rough. Unrefined.
But real.
It moved inside my body like heat flowing through hidden veins, gathering around joints and muscles as if my flesh were threaded with pathways I had never learned how to open properly.
"You're shaking."
My head lifted instantly.
The lean Saiyan was watching me with a thin smile that felt more like a scratch than a human expression.
I said nothing.
His eyes flicked to my hands.
"What?" he said lazily. "Still thinking about the planet?"
The bald Saiyan snorted without opening his eyes.
"If he freezes every time something explodes, we should throw him out the airlock now and save ourselves the trouble."
I didn't look at him.
My attention stayed on the lean one as I measured the space between silence and speech.
In places like this, silence could look suspicious.
But the wrong words could get you killed even faster.
Finally, I said quietly,
"I was checking my energy flow."
The lean Saiyan blinked once.
"Checking?"
I tilted my thumb toward my side.
"Debris clipped me during the blast. I'd rather not arrive at the station looking like a packaged corpse."
The bald one laughed.
This time he opened his eyes.
"First full sentence I've heard from you without you choking on half of it."
The tall one finally turned his gaze toward me.
He didn't respond immediately.
He simply studied my face, as if comparing me to the version of me he remembered.
Then he said calmly,
"If you have energy to examine your body, use it to make sure you don't slow us down later."
Then his eyes returned to the door.
The message was clear.
I wasn't important enough for them to care.
But I was visible enough for any mistake to count.
I looked back down at my hand.
These weren't friends.
Not even comrades in the romantic sense.
This was a unit that survived together.
That was it.
And the moment you became dead weight, they would drop you just as casually as Frieza had dropped a planet.
Minutes passed.
I couldn't say how many.
Time behaved strangely in space.
Everything inside the ship remained unnervingly still: the pale lighting, the recycled air, the quiet mechanical hum beneath the walls.
Even breathing felt like something happening inside a machine larger than myself.
Then the door slid open.
A Frieza Force soldier stepped in.
Not a Saiyan.
One of those background alien species I had seen countless times but never bothered learning the name of. His skin was bluish gray, his eyes narrow, and the white armor on his chest looked far cleaner than ours.
He carried a small tablet.
And the way he looked at us wasn't the way you looked at soldiers returning from a mission.
It was the way you looked at cargo.
"Unit Thirty-Seven."
The tall Saiyan rose first.
We followed automatically.
The soldier spoke without emotion.
"Arrival protocol has changed. When you dock at B-Alpha, survivors will be divided into three categories: reintegration, temporary service… and termination."
The final word landed in the room like a piece of iron.
The tall Saiyan's expression didn't change.
But the bald one opened his eyes fully.
The lean one stopped tapping his scouter.
The tall Saiyan asked,
"Based on what?"
The soldier glanced at his tablet.
"Utility. Stability. Expected loyalty. Combat efficiency. Rebellion probability."
Then he lifted his gaze toward us.
"And of course… cost."
He knew exactly what that word meant.
In Frieza's empire, the weak weren't killed just for being weak.
They were killed when keeping them alive cost more than replacing them.
The bald Saiyan growled,
"We're an active field unit. That should count."
The soldier shrugged.
"Not anymore."
He tapped the tablet again.
A glowing list appeared.
"Members of Unit Thirty-Seven: Tarok, Milza, Shorn… and Kairon."
For a brief moment, all three of them glanced toward me.
Then their attention returned to the soldier.
"You will all undergo evaluation upon arrival," the soldier continued. "However…"
His finger paused over the final name.
"There is an additional note attached to the last entry."
My neck stiffened.
Kairon.
Of course there was.
The soldier read aloud.
"Energy output below average. Combat record unremarkable. Retention probability: under review."
Silence followed.
Then Milza—the lean one—let out a sharp little laugh.
"Well," he said. "Looks like you're walking along the edge of a pit, Kairon."
Tarok didn't laugh.
He simply looked at me and said,
"If they have to throw one of us away, we all know who it'll be."
I didn't answer.
Not because I wanted to stay quiet, but because any defensive reply would make me look desperate—and aggression would make me look stupid.
Both options would lose.
The soldier shut down the tablet.
"Prepare yourselves. We arrive in seventeen minutes."
Then he turned and left.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
But it wasn't the same silence.
Now it felt heavier.
Milza leaned back in his seat.
"You know what's funny?" he said while spinning his scouter in one hand. "I don't think they'll terminate you immediately."
I looked at him.
He grinned.
"Temporary service suits you better. Dirty missions. Border worlds. Cleanup operations. The kind of work no one cares if you die doing."
Tarok muttered,
"That's if they're feeling generous."
Shorn remained silent.
After a moment, he stood and walked toward me.
His steps weren't quick.
But they were heavy enough to make the air notice.
He stopped in front of me and leaned down slightly.
"Listen carefully."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried more weight than shouting.
"When we reach the station, you speak only when asked. Don't panic. Don't act stupid. And if you receive an order…"
His eyes sharpened.
"…you follow it immediately."
He held my gaze.
"Because if you start dragging the rest of us down with you…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Then he straightened and walked away.
I stayed where I was.
Two seconds.
Three.
Four.
Then I slowly exhaled.
So this was the first real gate.
Not a battle.
Not some legendary awakening.
Not a meeting with a main character.
Just a sorting station.
A cold, bureaucratic test that would determine whether I even stayed inside the story.
I lowered my head and closed my eyes.
Think.
Panic wastes time.
And time was the one luxury I didn't have.
What did I know?
Frieza would reorganize the surviving Saiyans.
Those without clear use would disappear.
I was weak.
But not dead.
And as long as this body had ki—and as long as I still had a mind capable of thinking—there was always a narrow path forward.
But first…
I had to survive the first evaluation.
I opened my eyes.
The countdown on the screen read:
12:44
Twelve minutes.
My hands lowered slowly to my sides as I began observing the body again from the inside.
The ki moved sluggishly when I focused.
It scattered when I tensed.
It became chaotic when I tried to force too much control.
That alone told me something important.
Kairon—the original one—hadn't been completely powerless.
His energy existed.
But his control was awful.
Bad habits.
Crude output.
Wasteful flow.
Which explained everything.
The low reading.
The unimpressive record.
The contempt.
But there was something else.
When I slowed my breathing and focused deeper, I noticed a strange rhythm in the energy.
Not damage.
Not blockage.
Just instability.
Like the body was used to dragging ki out violently and letting it leak before it could stabilize.
Raw potential.
Terrible technique.
My eyes opened suddenly.
If that was true…
Then Kairon wasn't entirely weak.
He was just inefficient.
A faint pulse hit my chest.
Not fear this time.
Opportunity.
I raised my hand slowly and adjusted the flow again.
Gentler.
Less force.
Less waste.
For one brief moment—
The energy gathered in my palm.
Warm.
Clear.
Then it vanished.
But it was enough.
From the corner of my eye, I saw movement.
Shorn was watching me.
Neither of us spoke.
After a moment he looked away.
I wasn't sure if he had noticed what I did.
But he had noticed something.
Annoying.
And useful.
If I appeared more stable during evaluation…
Maybe I'd gain a few extra minutes.
And in this universe, minutes could change fate.
07:03
The countdown continued.
Then the ship shook.
Just slightly.
A small tremor ran through the walls.
Tarok's eyes snapped open.
Milza frowned.
Shorn was already standing.
The room shook again.
Harder.
Then the lights flickered.
Red alarms exploded through the corridors.
Tarok jumped to his feet instantly while Milza hammered commands into his scouter.
The door burst open.
The blue soldier rushed back inside.
The calm expression from earlier was gone.
"Course change! All units to docking platform immediately!"
Shorn barked,
"What happened?"
The soldier swallowed.
"One of the transport ships from the outer sector arrived without authorization… then exploded near the station."
The room froze.
Then he added quickly,
"There are survivors broadcasting Saiyan energy signatures from the wreckage."
I didn't think.
The name leaped into my mind before I could stop it.
Bardock?
Impossible.
Or maybe not.
Or maybe someone else entirely.
But something tightened in my chest.
Because this—
This wasn't supposed to happen.
The soldier continued,
"The commander has ordered all available combat units to respond. Any unregistered survivor is considered hostile until proven otherwise."
Shorn turned to us.
"Move."
We ran.
Sirens screamed through the corridors.
Red lights flashed overhead.
Soldiers rushed in every direction as the ship transformed from quiet transport into a waking beast.
But my mind was locked on one phrase.
Saiyan energy signatures from the wreckage.
Not registered.
Close to B-Alpha.
Just before evaluation.
That could be very bad.
Or very good.
Or something far more dangerous.
We reached the docking corridor.
Through the armored glass wall, I saw the station for the first time.
B-Alpha.
A colossal metal fortress hanging in space.
But what drew my eyes wasn't its size.
It was the fire.
A shattered transport ship burned near one of the docking arms.
And outside the wreckage—
Three faint energy signatures moved through the vacuum.
Three.
Not random.
One of them was weaker than the others.
But far more violent.
Unstable.
Fighting.
Bleeding energy into space like a wounded beast refusing to fall.
A chill crawled up my spine.
That feeling…
That wild, desperate surge of power…
I knew it.
Or thought I did.
Before the thought could finish forming, the ship's communication system crackled.
"All combat units deploy immediately. Hostile target approaching Docking Platform Three. Energy level detecte"
The voice cut out.
Then returned, strained and disbelieving.
"Energy level… rising rapidly.''