Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Anaugust Gold ❯ 05 ( Chapter 5 )

"What do you think you're doing?" Bulma grabbed Vegeta's shoulder, and nearly succeeded in her attempt to spin him to face her.

 

"I've had it!" the prince crossed his arms, brows creasing as he turned from the spaceship to look her in the eye. "Kakarrot's been gone for months now without a damn word on when he'll be back. Who am I supposed to spar?"

 

Bulma seemed to consider this, and knew that whatever other conflicts Vegeta had with his rival, fighting would always be the prevailing concern. Indeed, the Saiyajin had spent a great deal of time pouting and doing nothing at all in the time of Goku's absence, punctuated by whatever training Trunks could drag his father into. She'd seen that melancholy before, and as much as she dreaded dealing with the potentially massive elephant in the room upon Goku's return, she dreaded more what Vegeta might resort to without his training partner.

 

At her silence, Vegeta elaborated: "He could've at least teleported back to tell me how long he needed!"

 

"Please," Bulma sighed, patting Vegeta's back. "It was your fault he got upset enough to leave in the first place. Why would he come back before he was ready?"

 

"Whatever," Vegeta snorted. "I'm leaving."

 

"Just one second," Bulma grinned and grabbed him again, and he almost flinched under her condescension: "How are you going to find her planet? Did she tell you where it is?"

 

"No," he growled, closing his eyes in frustration. "But I'll find it. It can't be that hard to sense once I'm far enough out." When he opened them again, Bulma's face was still painted in a smirk that said she knew something he didn't. "What, you do?"

"Not right now," she answered, but still the smirk didn't falter.

 

"So?"

 

"So guess who I gave a scouter which I can easily track?"

 

Vegeta's lips pulled back to reveal a toothy grin.

 

"But," she started to turn away, teasing him. "I won't tell you where she is unless you bring me along."

 

"Wha—" he began, and pounded one fist into the ship in rage. "Absolutely not!"

 

"Are you just worried that those nasty brutes will snatch up a pretty thing like me?" she winked. "Hm?"

 

"No, I—"

 

"What?" she wheeled around to face him again. "Are you saying I'm not pretty?"

 

"No, I'm—I mean, yes, you are—" he spat words as quickly as they came to him, but they didn't seem to appease the woman, who had taken up his customary cross-armed, wide-legged stance, perhaps mocking him. "It's just you're—"

 

"Excellent; I knew you'd agree," she smiled, her voice dripping honey with a dangerous enough edge that Vegeta knew not to argue. "I'll call Chi-Chi and arrange for Trunks to stay the night there while we're gone, and let the important people know I'll be gone for a while so they can take care of the company."

 

"Dammit...Bulma..." Vegeta murmured to himself as she turned and walked away, humming.

 

 

...

 

 

Enma had sent Goku a puzzled look as the man had passed the check-in station with nothing but a small wave to the giant red god. While he hadn't a clue what had happened to Goku, and had been rather too busy to check, the very fact that the Saiyajin was capable of any expression other than a grin or a confused stare had been enough to perplex and, indeed, sadden him.

 

Goku had continued past the area and made his way to someplace private he'd discovered during all his time in Heaven. In the seven years he was dead between Cell and Buu, he'd spent his share of time here, wondering if leaving Earth behind had been the best choice after all, wondering if the son he'd never met would ever want to know him and wondering if Vegeta was doing as much training as he was.

 

But this time, he had been pondering other things. He couldn't believe what had happened—had only really been able to bring it back to his memory within the past few days, a small portion of this stay in Heaven, and every time he did it lead to tears leaking from his eyes. He guessed Chi-Chi—and Vegeta?—had been awaiting his return for two or maybe three months now.

 

Carefully and painfully, he played through the memories. Why had Vejata done that—why would she go that far? He remembered from long ago, during their time on the ship, that she had seemed a bit flustered by him when he had performed the near-deed that had been the cause of the entire problem. Goku knew he wasn't always good at understanding people, but he'd always felt like Vejata would never resort to that kind of thing. Was she really that...selfish?

 

But yes—yes she was. She'd been blowing up buildings and hurting people just in the hopes of finding one who could power up and compete with her. She'd felt like her people were too weak... At this thought, he remembered something Vegeta had mentioned in passing, in one of their sparring sessions before the whole fiasco. The prince himself had been expecting Vejata's return to Earth at any time—something about her being bored. Was she doing these things because she was bored—not just to try to make the other Saiyajin stronger? Would she destroy them all out of boredom? Then there would be nothing left for her to be the queen of.

 

The queen.

 

The act Vejata had pressed upon him in her trickery was not unfamiliar to him, though he had never experienced it under such a malicious setup. Sometimes, Chi-Chi had asked him to do it to her because it made her happy—he couldn't deny it; he liked it just as much. But, he remembered, sometimes she said that she wanted a baby, and that was what they had to do to get one.

 

But why would Vejata want one of those? Was that even it? Or did she do it just to be mean to him? A bitter voice inside Goku told him that he wouldn't put it past her. Vegeta had done some pretty mean things, too—but never anything like that.

 

He leaned back until he rested against the swaying grasses beneath him. Maybe if I figure this out...maybe it'll bother me less. He hoped so, because right now his chest still ached from the betrayal, and he didn't like the feeling one bit.

 

 

...

 

 

Vejata rapped her fingers against the table, cursing herself for her lack of foresight. Months, and she felt no different—looked no different—she felt nothing, and the scouter saw nothing. Unconsciously she brought her hand to her stomach and tapped her fingers rhythmically against it, their twitching a symptom of her fury.

 

There was nothing there, and she was stuck once more.

 

She weighed her options—there were those dragon balls, and she could perhaps find them if she devoted some time to it. But what was the point in wishing Goku back? She knew that at best, he might ignore her—at worst, he would kill her; as he should, if he had any sense. And certainly there would be no way to simply wish a being into existence. If such magic existed, at least, she wanted no part of it; the fact that the dead were never truly dead as long as those balls existed made her shiver enough.

 

Or she could go back to what she had been doing, more desperately this time. In these months she'd spent little time outside, holed up as she fretted first over whether killing Goku had been a bad idea—what if he hadn't impregnated her?—and then cursing herself, for her nightmare had come true; there would be no heir from Goku. The man's body was saved, carefully frozen and put away where only she could get to it—but there was little she could do with that, for the Saiyajin possessed no technology that could be of use to her. If events of the past were any indication, seeking it out would only lead to the eventual fall of her people, as some monster of Goku's shadow wreaked havoc upon them as the younger, more powerful copies of Vegeta had.

 

Yes, if she was to uphold her duty to the Saiyajin race, she would have to wait and hope some stronger Saiyajin did come along, that there was just one on the planet she could provoke into transformation, or at least enough of a rage that his strength could even near hers. It seemed unlikely, and her mind was racing to find a solution.

 

Then there was one other matter that concerned her—when would Goku's friends find out he wasn't coming back?

 

 

...

 

 

"Well, dammit," Bulma huffed.

 

Vegeta glanced over at her, and, seeing that she was genuinely upset, laid an arm across her back. "I thought it might be so."

 

"I came all this way and I can't even get off the ship? I can't believe it!" she threw Vegeta's comforting arm away from herself, pacing madly in front of the screens. "I was okay on Namek!"

 

"Namek's gravity wasn't so different from Earth's," Vegeta reminded her. "You got lucky. Planet Vegeta's gravity was about ten times what you know, so it only makes sense the Saiyajin would select a new planet with similar living conditions."

 

"You're just lucky I'm such a genius," she crossed her arms as she collapsed onto the captain's chair. "That I can change the gravity in this ship at all."

 

"Yes, yes," Vegeta smirked. "A fragile human as yourself had better be smart, to survive in space." He turned his back to her, but it was clear from his gazing over his shoulder that he was still focused on her. Finally, with the slightest affection warming his voice, he added, "What other reason would I have had to mate with anyone so weak?"

 

Bulma laughed a little, tucking a few locks of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, well, I could say the same for you. I'll never find a man as smart as I am." One corner of her mouth lifted.

 

"That's lovely of you," he chortled, and prepared to punch in the code that would allow him to exit the ship. "I'll just go find Kakarrot, figure out what's going on, and we'll be back in no time." He hit a few numbers and waited for the slow mechanisms of the door to lurch to life. Vegeta's brows furrowed and he hoped that Goku wouldn't make it too tough to invite him back to Earth. There was the additional factor of Vejata—what was she up to? Her power seemed to have grown fainter at their arrival; almost as faint as Goku's, which Vegeta could not feel at all from where the ship had landed. What game were they playing at? He felt his heart accelerate with some unnamed concern. "I hope."

 

 

...

 

 

She knew she had not suppressed it enough, and did all she could to gather herself as a powerful force toppled her front door. "Where's Kakarrot?" his voice boomed through the hallways. Vejata stepped from her room, calming her breathing and steeling her gaze. She crossed her arms as Vegeta approached, daring him to shout in her sacred hallways again. So he did. "Kakarotto!" he called, and continued in mocking singsong, "Time to come home!"

 

"I'd say he's fairly well home," Vejata grated out. She swept past the prince and out the fallen door, forcing Vegeta to follow her if he meant to question her cryptic words.

 

Begrudgingly, he did. "What have you done?" he growled. "I'm sure Kakarrot feels no more at home here than he ever has on any other alien planet."

 

Her scowl twisted into a grin as she met Vegeta's eyes. "Oh, he made himself quite at home," she assured him softly. "After so graciously accepting my invitation."

 

Vegeta took a moment to process her words, and noted with alarm how incoherent she seemed compared to the last time they had met—he knew that mad smirk, and it was the look of utmost desperation. He glanced at his surroundings, finding crumbled buildings in the distance—far more than he would expect of even the meanest of neighborhood spats. "I see you must have gotten bored here," he responded, putting her words on the backburner to simmer while he considered their meaning. "Or," he added as an afterthought, chuckling faintly, "you're promoting some very interesting architectural practices."

 

"Weaklings," she spat, her smirk suddenly disappearing.

 

"I hate to say it," Vegeta's face warmed with smugness, "but I warned you about this. I wonder," he paced closer to Vejata, taking a few steps around her as if evaluating a show animal. "Why haven't you come sniveling back to Earth?" When she responded in nothing but an increase of vigor of her breathing, Vegeta continued. "Why, you look as if you've not had to fight very much at all since we last met."

 

"What makes you say that?" she muttered, restraining her urge to slug him across the face for his cockiness.

 

"For one," the man began, stopping in place and spinning on his heel to face her, "you've the distinct dissatisfaction in your eyes of a Saiyajin who's been a bit too pent up recently."

 

Her eyes widened at his choice of words—did he know? Did he know, already, somehow, what she had done?

 

Noting her changing expression, Vegeta's smirk deepened as an idea struck him. "And for another," he chuckled, "you look a little..." he nodded toward her, as if that would explain anything, but tacked on an explanation at her expense: "...weightier."

 

Vejata's hand snapped to her stomach, and a vicious growl ripped through her throat. Vegeta narrowed his eyes, feeling clever for having found something that was finally taking him somewhere in this interrogation. "Ah," his soft laughs rippled through the air, poisonous velvet as they reached her ears. "Were you expecting a little more there? What is that?" he jerked his chin toward the hand that covered her belly, eyes sparkling knowingly.

 

"Heir," she answered quietly, knowing he would understand. While she knew launching into a fight with the man at this moment would seal her fate, as his teeth gleamed at her she was sorely tempted.

 

"Not much of one," he snickered at her flat abdomen. "At least, I can't sense a damn thing."

 

"Of course not," her voice quivered through her clenched teeth. "I've known that for months."

 

"Oh," Vegeta snorted at her, "because they're so hard to make that you just couldn't manage to do it again in that time."

 

"This one was," and her hand gripped tighter against her, and she let a spark of madness flicker into her eyes again. "It almost worked, too."

 

"What's that?" his question was nonchalant, but with dread he felt the pieces coming together. He turned away and seemed to buff his gloved fingers against his shirt in faked boredom, but his eyes remained carefully trained on the queen. She kept her hand and her gaze on her empty womb. "Well?" he insisted.

 

"My way out," she hissed.

 

Vegeta rolled his eyes at her unhelpful response, but froze just as he was preparing to mock her again. Voice as cold and deadly as the feeling that was creeping through his veins, he asked without watching her, "Where's Kakarrot?"

 

Vejata didn't respond, feeling her chest pounding as the prince's rage boiled. She watched carefully as he turned to face her, the graveness of his stare challenging her to lie as he asked again, "Where is Kakarrot?"

 

Her eyes met his, but she did not speak.

 

"You'd best answer me," Vegeta lit a ki blast in his palm, and for the seconds she kept silent it grew.

 

"You didn't want him," she finally answered, her voice scarcely a whisper even if her eyes seemed wild with arrogance and power, "so I took him."

 

Vegeta seemed starved for air now as his chest rose and fell rapidly in rage. "And THEN?" he shouted, the blast in his palm bursting in size as he pumped more energy into it.

 

"He was a liability I had to deal with," she powered up, preparing to take the brunt of his blast—until she read his strength on the scouter that rested within her eye. She braced herself upon the tips of her toes as subtly as she could manage.

 

"You..." his heavy breathing did not entirely mask his words, "underhanded...bitch." He roared and ascended, first meeting Vejata's power and then surpassing it. "No one kills Kakarotto while I'm alive!"

 

As he fired the enormous blast, Vejata sprung into the air, thanking the gods she had chosen to wear the scouter. The split-second she needed she could now afford as Vegeta approached her—she pressed her eyes shut and focused, lifting two fingers to her brow.