Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Another Life ❯ New Endeavors ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of the characters seen in the show, manga, movies, etc. If I did, I think I'd just let Vegeta go psycho and rule the world…with me as his queen of course…;)

Author's Note: I just want to thank all you who reviewed my story so far. It has really given me the motivation I need to keep going. I also want to let you know that I'm open for suggestions. I've got a pretty good idea of where this story is going, and I've got a lot of twists and turns coming up, but I feel it is my duty to keep readers happy, and if you feel something should be added, I will do my best to get it in without getting too far off the story. Just put it in a review or email me at let88b@mizzou.edu and I will definitely consider your suggestion. Alright, I think I've rambled long enough…so…by all means…enjoy!

Another Life

Chapter 4 - New Endeavors

The first thing Kakarrot saw as he was jolted out cryo-sleep was flashing red lights. His brain barely had time to register what was going on before he was ejected out of the cryo-stasis pod and tossed onto the floor. His hearing came back all at once and his eardrums were assaulted by an angry, blaring siren. What the hell happened? Kakarrot staggered to his feet and was immediately thrown back down again by the forceful rumbling and shaking of the spacepod he was presently in. He decided against standing up again, tenderly rubbing his injured arm before struggling to crawl across the floor to the ship's console. He could barely see with all the steam the emergency landing system was releasing to prepare for impact. But impact with what?

Kakarrot's eyes widened as he read his coordinates on the pod's mapping system. He was heading towards Dais. Dais was an out of the way planet whose only real value came from it's production of fermented Dais wine, a rarity only because the berries used to make it grew every fifteen years. Kakarrot recalled his brother had once spent his entire salary on a bottle that he had finished within an hour. Dais, he remembered, had a slight aversion to technology and preferred to have as little interference from other planets as possible. This would be a major problem if he crashed into an extremely unadvanced part of the planet. He would have no way to repair his ship or even find another one to use to get off-planet. He would be stranded, and he couldn't contact his father without the risk of tipping off the Empire.

Kakarrot pulled himself up on the console and began desperately hitting keys, trying to redirect the ship so that it wouldn't collide with the primitive planet. After a few seconds, he had accessed the ship's logs to try to assess the problem. The ship's records showed that his pod had hit a meteor a ways back and that the ship's navigation system was malfunctioning. That meant there was nothing he could do. He would be crashing on Dais whether he wanted to of not. Kakarrot pounded the console hard in frustration and had to back up when sparks began flying out the damaged keypad. What was he going to do? He had promised his father he would not fail, and he certainly wasn't succeeding by crashing onto a planet with less than primitive technology that could possibly be found by the Empire.

Kakarrot dropped back down to the floor and sighed. His fate, it seemed, was not in his hands. Whatever happened after this point was not up to him. He could only take what was dealt to him and hope that the outcome played in his favor.

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"You there, Bulma isn't it? I think Counselor Trag would like some wine." Bulma gripped the handle of the pitcher she was holding until her knuckles turned white as she kept her eyes downcast to hide the fury she was presently feeling. Funny how Mistress Drudilia could scream her name until it was echoing in the valley when she did something wrong, but it seemed to slip her mind when she had guests. "Damn bourgeois, self-serving, bird-brained…"

"What was that?" Bulma quit her muttering and plastered a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

"I said I'll get to it right away, Mistress." Bulma gave a little curtsy and stood still for a second, awaiting the Mistress' reaction to her switch of words. The Mistress' quick glance to Damein's lounging form leaning against the wall told Bulma that her comments against the Mistress hadn't gone unnoticed. Damien, watchful as always, stepped away from the wall, giving Bulma a cruel smile that promised retribution before taking his place at the wall again. Bulma nearly cursed aloud as she thought of the beating she would probably have to endure after the party. She looked over to the man she was supposed to serve and couldn't hold back her cringe of disgust. He was leering at her from the other side of the room, waving at her to make sure to get her attention. Bulma forced herself to keep a steady pace and resisted the urge to just drop the pitcher she was holding and run in the other direction. Kami, her life couldn't get any worse than this. Being forced to serve disgusting men like Counselor Trag with a smile on her face, with the only thing to anticipate afterwards being a good sound beating. If it weren't for the new escape plan she had just recently formulated, she would have thrown herself off a cliff by now.

"Counselor Trag, would you like some more wine?" Bulma held out the pitcher awaiting his order to pour. The Counselor took his time answering while his gaze slid up and down Bulma's form, stopping briefly at obvious points of interest, mainly her chest and hips.

"Yes, my dear. How thoughtful of you. You really have an eye for sensing people's needs." The Counselor gave her a wide grin, showing all of his glistening white teeth, and Bulma had to keep herself from rolling her eyes and gagging at his incredulous statement. Did the pompous fool really think she gave a damn about his needs?

"Will that be all, Counselor?" Bulma was in a hurry to get away from him and his wandering eyes.

"Actually…no. I was thinking about asking Drudilia if she could spare you for a couple of days. My...daughter is going to be visiting me and I'm sure she could use a personal servant to wait on her for the few days she'll be visiting." The Counselor was giving her what he must have thought was his most innocent look. Bulma thought he looked like a viper.

"Well, you see, Counselor Trag, I don't think the Mistress could afford my absence even if it was to wait on your…daughter. I have so many duties, I'm quite indispensable at the moment." Bulma silently prayed that her lie would detour the eager man.

"Drudilia has many servants. In fact, it seems that she is getting a new one every couple weeks. I'm sure she could manage without you for just a little while. I won't…I mean my daughter won't need you for very long."

"I don't think I can. I'm a fairly new servant. I've only been here about six or seven months. I'm still learning how to do things properly. I just can't leave and interrupt my training." Bulma shook her head vigorously to emphasize her point.

"But, my dear, I could instruct you on how to be a good servant. You'll simply be switching masters for a time." The Counselor's smooth, sugary sweet voice was enough to cause the hair on the back Bulma's neck to stand up.

"I really can't, Counselor. I hope you understand--" Bulma's words were cut off as the Counselor reached out a thin, lanky hand and stroked the bare skin of her arm. The Counselor's action sent a chill through her body that caused her arm to shake hard enough to spill the wine from the pitcher. The wine splashed onto the bright blue material of the Counselor's tunic, quickly spreading a deep red stain resembling blood across the front.

"Why you little…I think you deliberately…" The Counselor sputtered, obviously fuming and unable to get his words out properly.

"I'm sorry, Counselor. Honestly, I didn't mean to spill the wine on you. It's just, you caught me off guard and…well I couldn't control my reaction."

"What is the meaning of this?" Mistress Drudilia's tall straight form towered over her, the aristocrat's nose still managing to point up even as she looked down on Bulma.

"I-I accidentally…when he touched me…I…" Bulma tried to think of a way to explain without insulting the Counselor. If the Counselor were angered enough, his temper would influence Bulma's punishment.

"Your incompetent servant doesn't know how to hold a pitcher properly, that's what. I think my time here at your little party has come to an end, Drudilia. Please have one of your more capable servants show me out." Counselor Trag stood up abruptly, and with as much dignity he could muster considering the rather large stain on his shirt, he walked out of the room. Mistress Drudilia motioned to a nearby servant to follow him, and then turned to Bulma, her eyes glittering with anger. It was an amazing feat to Bulma that the woman was still able to keep a smile on her face when she ordered her out. Bulma was sure that it was only for the sake of her guests.

Bulma was just about to pass through the doorway when she was joined by Damien. His grip on her arm was almost painfully tight as he escorted her down the familiar series of hallways. Bulma knew where they were going. He was trying to get her out of the hearing of the other guests. Bulma knew better than to resist. The Mistress' wrath would be felt whether she ran away and waited for them to find her or if she just sat there and took it. There was no way out…at least for now. Bulma tried her hardest to hide the little smile that had found it's way onto her lips. This was all she needed. Her escape plan was ready to be tried, and this little incident made her even more determined to leave as soon as possible. Tomorrow, she would try out her escape plan to be off of this Kami forsaken planet and come Hell or high Heaven, she was going to succeed.

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"What news do you have for me?" Vegeta's menacing sneer and piercing gaze told the solider that disappointing the irritated prince would not be a good idea.

"Your Highness, we have gotten word through our sources on Halibore, the planet in the Juno quadrant, that an unidentified spacecraft collided with a meteor just outside their atmosphere. The pilot didn't seem to respond to the collision and continued in the direction it was pushed in."

"So what the hell does that mean?"

"The spacecraft was a Saiyan pod. The Halibor-jin were quite specific about that fact. We've checked the records for all the Empire-regulated spaceports and none of the ships were logged in to go anywhere near the Juno quadrant. We figure that whoever this is left from a private spaceport, or figured out a way to evade our officials at the docking bay, which would mean they have something to hide." The soldier stepped back and waited for his prince to respond.

"This doesn't mean anything. But still, it's better than nothing. Start searching planets from the Juno quadrant on. Send out intergalactic notices to every available planet that there is a fugitive on the loose. Tell them that any information will be rewarded. But make sure that they know that I want him alive." Vegeta nearly shouted his last sentence, causing the soldier to back up a few paces.

"As you command, your Highness." The soldier hit his chest with one fist and walked off in the direction of the command center.

Vegeta headed in the opposite direction. He was too exhausted to even set foot in the command center. His day had consisted of almost endless training, being interrupted only momentarily by hourly reports on the progress of their search for the third-class fugitive. Vegeta was determined to be prepared when it came time to meet the third-class freak. He would make him suffer the humiliation he had been subjected to and he would show him that there were none stronger than the Saiyan no Ouji. He would bring him back and show all Vegeta-sei what happened when you defied the Prince of all Saiyans.

Vegeta fell onto his bed, not bothering to worry about the open cuts and gashes that might stain the royal blue spread. He hadn't seen his father since their last violent encounter. He wasn't even sure what the old bastard was doing. Of course there were always things to do when ruling an empire, but the main problem that needed addressing was the original fugitive that had remained missing for some time: the Meru-jin scientist. The fact still remained that he could be helping Frieza build a weapon of mass destruction, one that could give the sadistic tyrant the upper hand and allow him to take all that the Saiyan Empire had worked to conquer away. His father must be worrying a groove into the carpet in front of his throne, pacing as he always did when he was pondering a worthy predicament. Good. It was satisfying to know that his father wasn't the invincible warrior that he always made himself out to be. Vegeta would have his own problems to deal with. Let the old fool deal with his; he wouldn't be king for very much longer anyway. Better to let him fix the problem before his demise.

Vegeta fully planned to take the throne after all this was finished. He would kill his father, but not before he got what he really wanted. Vegeta wanted what he had always wanted since he had been old enough to channel his ki: he wanted the king to tell him that he was worthy of the throne, that he deserved it even though it was his birthright. Vegeta wanted to hear his father tell him that all those years he had spent trying to please him had accomplished something. He didn't want to continue to feel like nothing he did ever mattered. But most of all, he wanted the bastard to at least acknowledge him as his son and hear from his own mouth that the stories about his mother's infidelity were untrue, that they were just used to spark the prince's anger. That was the one thing he needed to hear before he killed his father.

Vegeta tried to force himself not to think about his father. There was no way in Hell he would ever forget his father's words, but it wouldn't help to dwell on them when he was trying to relax. He would save his anger to be unleashed when he destroyed the traitor of the throne. If the lead they had received was valid, then his time to wait would be very short. He would take his time and relish the kill, and when it was all over, then maybe some of his damaged pride that had been previously lost would be repaired. He was sure that after he killed his father and took care of the third-class loser, he would feel whole again. He was sure that there wasn't anything else he needed in his life. There couldn't be, right? If there was, he should be able to obtain it because he was a Saiyan Prince who would soon be king. Anything he wanted, he could have. Anything.

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Kakarrot found himself draped over a large, wide branch of a tree. He was fairly proud of himself, considering he had managed to eject himself from the pod before it crashed and became the burning heap of metal it now was. He tried to use his ki to fly out of the tree, but he realized his energy was still way to low. If he flew now, he might use up his remaining energy and could become unconscious before he found help. Better to save his energy until he found a way to repair his ship. Kakarrot looked back to his ship again and shook his head. There was no way he could salvage it. He would have to find a new one. But where? At the moment, Dais looked just as primitive as he had heard, the vast wilderness stretching out before him on all sides. He didn't even know which direction to begin walking in. He tried to use his ki-sensing ability to feel out other lifeforms, but either they were too far away or he was just too weak.

Mindful of his arm, Kakarrot carefully tried to climb down the tree. Without the use of his left side, climbing proved to be difficult. He lost his footing in a matter of seconds and plummeted down into the underbrush bouncing lightly before coming to a rest on the soft spongy forest floor. Kakarrot groaned, feeling his arm ache with intense pain. This was going be more difficult than he thought. Screw trying to get a ship; he had to make it out of this damn forest first. With another groan and a lot of effort, Kakarrot was sitting up and he made sure to check his wound before he hoisted himself up on a nearby tree trunk. He didn't know the cycle of this planet's sun, but he hoped it was a long-running cycle. He didn't have time to worry about the evils that came out at night.

Kakarrot closed his eyes and spun around, stopping after a few seconds and opened his eyes. He began to walk in the direction he was pointing in. It was as good a direction as any, and he had the sun directly in front of him. That would make his direction easier to remember in the midst the savage wilderness. I will survive, he told himself. My father and brother are counting on me. I will not fail. With the last thought echoing in his mind, Kakarrot headed towards the sun, determined to find a way out of wilderness destiny had thrown him in.

A/N: Will Kakarrot ever get out of the wilderness? Will Bulma escape the tortures of servitude? Will Vegeta be able to do all he's set out to do? Stay Tuned for the next chapter. And remember, To err is human, to review is divine!