Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Shadow in the Twilight ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

A Shadow in the Twilight

Chapter 1

"Blast and damn!" cursed an irritated Bardock. "I thought we'd have finished purging this stupid mudball for Frieza by now!"

Toma, Bardock's best friend and fellow Saiya-jin warrior, laughed aloud at the vituperative exclamation. "'Patience is a virgin', my friend, and it would seem that you've grown too old and cranky to embrace either!"

"Shut the hell up! You damn well know that you're older than I am!"

"Would you two kindly stop yer yappin' and get back to work?" shouted Ceripa in between the ki blasts she was methodically casting about her. The Saiya-jins left off arguing for the present and resumed combining their destructive ki energies in order to raze the structures housing the last pockets of resistance in the planet's governmental capitol.

"Bardock, you know that we're ahead of schedule, just like always," Raditz, Bardock's first-born son, added after the last building fell. "Frieza's got nothing to bitch about when us Saiya-jins are on the job!"

Bardock's right hand came up to absently stroke the raised scar on his left cheek while he surveyed the results of their collective handiwork. This had turned out to be a nearly flawless execution, in his opinion. No free-standing edifices of the capitol city remained unscathed. The natives of the planet Gheneres had either ended up dead (a bit of collateral damage to be expected in a minor sortie like this) or had already been rounded up and herded into the awaiting slave transports. A few stray breezes stirred around him, kicking up miniature dust devils and sending bits of trash fluttering throughout the smoky trails hanging in the air. He expanded his lungs to inhale the moment.

"I just love the smell of alien decimation in the morning!"

"Hey, Bardock! What's that piece of paper sticking to your boot?" Toma bent down to retrieve the colorful parchment, its edges torn and the bottom third charred.

The commander chuckled. "What are you, Toma, the local trash collector? Maybe we should add that talent to your already impressive credentials and forward it to Frieza for extra credit!"

Toma ignored his friend's jibe and smoothed out the torn paper on his muscular thigh, before bringing it up to eye-level to scan its writings.

"It's an announcement for a performance taking place on a planet called…Theta Seven. Seems they're putting on a show of some kind to raise funds for 'beings displaced by marauding space terrorists'…" Bardock's hand quickly snatched the paper from Toma's grasp before he could finish. His ebony eyes read the following:

"Herdano's Amphitheatre is Proud to Present

A Fund-Raising Performance to Benefit the Gentle

Beings of the Manderan Solar System Displaced by

Marauding Space Terrorists.

Five Companies of the Finest Singers, Dancers, Acrobats,

Jugglers Ever Assembled in One Remarkable Evening of

Entertainment!

All Performers have Graciously Donated

Their Time and Talents so that Proceeds from this Show

Will Go to Those Who Have Lost Their Homes,

Families, and Livelihoods. There Will Also Be Depositories

Available at the Show for Those Wishing to Donate Foodstuffs,

Clothing, and other Serviceable Items..."

Bardock's sharp eyes continued their perusal of the page, noting the date and time of the scheduled performance. The first three companies were somewhat readable; however, the section containing the names of the remaining two had since been burnt off.

"According to this blurb, this show is taking place tonight at this venue."

"So…?"

"So we've finished this job four days ahead of our assigned timetable and I might just take myself a little side jaunt to this Theta Seven and catch what I can of the evening's festivities. If my recollection serves, it's only about a couple of hours' traveling time from this mudball's interstellar coordinates. Anybody else want to tag along?"

"I'll go with you, Bardock," replied Toma, "just to make sure that you don't get yourself into a bind, of course." That comment earned him a derisive snort from the commander of the squad.

Bardock turned to regard the remaining members of his crew. "How about you Ceripa? Or you, Raditz?"

"Nah," responded Ceripa, shaking her head. "Once I get back to Vegeta-sei, I'm planning to indulge in a long hot bath and a substantial number of ice-cold, and preferably alcoholic, beverages."

"That sounds a whole lot more inviting to me as well. Soooo, you need someone to help scrub your back, Ceripa?" Raditz ventured, adding an inviting leer to his offer.

"Go wax your carrot on someone else's time, boy! I am perfectly capable of washing my own back, thank you very much! And besides, it's not on my to-do list to guide you through puberty a second time!"

A short while later, Ceripa and Raditz blasted off the conquered planet in their respective space pods, heading towards the place all Saiya-jins called home, the crimson planet of Vegeta-sei. Once they communicated their final report to the Planet Trade via their scouter units, Toma and Bardock followed suit, but their programmed trajectories were set for a much different destination. Since their actual traveling time from Gheneres toward Theta Seven would only eat up a few hours, the long-range cryo-sleep gases were not released within their pods. Through the com unit's open speaker, Bardock could hear his friend softly snoring. Toma had an inborn knack for falling asleep instantly once settled into his pod, regardless of trip length. Such was the way of one who could flick off his thought processes like a switch.

Bardock's turbulent musings, on the other hand, did not allow him such mindless repose. His behavior/visions over the past months had been dismissed by the general Saiya-jin population as an eccentricity to be tolerated given his elevated warrior status. Inwardly, he agonized about how much longer he would be able to keep up the precarious hold he had on his sanity.

Since the incident on Kanassa-sei, his visions of Vegeta-sei's destruction at the hand of the loathsome Ice-jin, Frieza, were becoming increasing vivid. They were replete with vibrant colors, sounds, and odors as any other part of his conscious state. The essential difference, and therefore the most frightening, was that he knew that, despite confident assurances to the contrary from friend and acquaintance alike, Vegeta-sei's days were numbered. In Bardock's mind, it was only a matter of when, and not if, it would occur.