"Merus?" Jaco's brow furrowed under his helmet, his fear momentarily overridden by genuine confusion. "Who's that?"
Rhode watched his reaction closely. The bafflement seemed unfeigned. "There's no one named Merus in the Galactic Patrol?" he pressed.
"Absolutely not!" Jaco affirmed, his voice regaining a sliver of its usual bureaucratic certainty. "I'd know."
"Ah. A pity," Rhode murmured, mostly to himself. If Merus, the Angel-in-training, were already active in the Patrol, he'd be a legend. Jaco would have been boasting about him non-stop. His absence suggested the timeline was still early, or his mission was different.
"Relax," Rhode said, the intimidating pressure dissipating as he gave Jaco's shoulder a pat that was almost companionable. "I'm not going to harm you. You're... well, you're beneath my notice." He said it not with cruelty, but with the blunt factuality of stating the sky was blue. "However, since I'll be residing on Earth, a word of advice: keep that 'Extinction Bomb' of yours very, very secure. If a single Earthling dies because of your negligence, you will personally answer to me. Do you understand the consequences?"
Jaco nodded so vigorously his helmet threatened to unscrew. "Mhm-mhm-mhm!"
"Good. Now, unclench. I'm not the villain you think I am." Rhode smiled, then absentmindedly wiped his hand on Jaco's pristine silver suit, finding the material oddly slick.
Hehe... Jaco's internal scream was silent. Not a villain? He's worse! He's a sadist who torments you with politeness!
Having obtained the information he wanted and delivered his warning, Rhode considered the matter settled. With Dr. Brief and Bulma here, the spaceship repairs were a foregone conclusion.
"Alright then," he said, his tone turning oddly cheerful. "Eat well, drink well. Enjoy your final days here in peace!" He gave a final, benign nod and strolled toward the house, leaving Jaco rooted to the spot in fresh horror.
Final days? Final days?! He's going to execute me after I've had a last meal! Jaco's mind spun into a panic.
Meanwhile, inside, the atmosphere was congenial. As Rhode had predicted, with Dr. Brief's expertise and Bulma's frighteningly quick adaptations, Jaco's spacecraft was repaired within a day.
But the promised galactic tour and Earthly shopping spree never happened. The moment his ship was operational, Jaco offered a hasty, stammering farewell to Tights and Dr. Mashirito, boarded his craft, and blasted off from Earth as if the planet itself had caught fire. He wasn't fleeing a mission; he was fleeing Rhode.
"That jerk!" Tights fumed, watching the ship vanish into the stratosphere. "He promised!"
"Ah, well, the duties of a Galactic Patrolman are never-ending, I'm sure," Dr. Mashirito sighed, though he too looked disappointed.
Seeing his chance, Rhode stepped forward. With a wave of his hand, he opened a portal to the Time Chamber and emerged moments later with a small case of Hoi-Poi Capsules.
"Tights," he said, tossing her the case. "A parting gift. Inside is a spacecraft. It's more spacious than Jaco's."
Tights caught the case, her disappointment instantly replaced by radiant excitement. "Really?!" She fumbled with a capsule and threw it into a clear area.
POOF!
In a cloud of smoke, Rhode's former personal starship materialized—a sleek vessel designed for long-range travel, complete with living quarters and an advanced medical pod.
"Wow! It's gorgeous! Thank you, Rhode!" Tights breathed, her dream of interstellar exploration suddenly back on track.
"Think nothing of it. It was just gathering dust," Rhode replied with a dismissive wave. The ship and its healing pod were obsolete to him now.
As Tights eagerly boarded to explore, Rhode's focus shifted to the elderly scientist standing nearby. His expression grew more contemplative.
"Doctor Mashirito," he began, his voice lowering. "I have a question that may seem... unusual. That research of yours into temporal physics... is your goal still to find a way back to the past?"
Their earlier conversation had naturally drifted into theoretical realms, with Dr. Mashirito and Dr. Brief diving deep into spacetime physics, a discussion even the young Bulma had followed with startling acuity. Rhode had listened, recognizing this moment as a potential seed for Bulma's own future time machine. They had even toured Mashirito's laboratory, where his prototype sat—a machine that could stop time locally for fifty seconds, a staggering achievement even if it fell short of true temporal traversal. Rhode understood the profound implications; stopping time, even briefly, was a power that flirted with the divine.
He knew the doctor's tragic motivation: decades of solitary research, initially funded by a government that lost interest, all fueled by the desperate hope of returning to the past to save his deceased wife.
"Oh, you know about that?" Dr. Mashirito said, not overly surprised. He assumed Jaco had mentioned it. A profound weariness then settled over his aged features. "But... no. Not anymore. I don't think she would have wanted me to spend my entire life trapped in yesterday."
"Then, Doctor," Rhode said, his gaze drifting toward the treeline where the lab was hidden, "would you consider giving me your time machine?"
Before the old scientist could respond, Rhode added, "In exchange, I can secure permanent ownership of this island for you. You've lived here for decades. The memories are part of the soil."
The offer hung in the air, its simplicity and depth striking a chord. It wasn't just a transaction; it was an acknowledgment of a life's work and a sanctuary. Dr. Mashirito looked at Rhode, then at the familiar trees and rocks of his home. He found he had no rebuttal.
Several days later, the bureaucratic process—vastly accelerated by Capsule Corporation's influence and a significant 'donation'—was complete. The island's deed bore Mashirito's name. In return, Rhode took possession of the semi-functional time machine and every scrap of research data on temporal physics.
"Doctor," Rhode said as he prepared to leave, the weight of the data drive in his hand feeling heavier than any star. "When I unlock the secrets of true time travel, I will return. And if you still wish it then, I will take you back. For a visit."
With that promise lingering in the salt air, Rhode departed. There was one more piece of the puzzle he needed to check on, a variable crucial to this planet's destiny.
Swish.
The world bent, and the serene ocean island was replaced by the lush, misty highlands of Mount Paozu. The air was clean, filled with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Somewhere in this wilderness, recently arrived from the stars, was the infant Saiyan known as Kakarot—the child who would become Goku. Rhode's senses unfurled, seeking that small, fierce, and currently harmless spark of ki.
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