Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dimensions of You ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

The metal ship calmly glided through the cold realm of space. Small white lights marred the black perfection, indicating the presence of planets and other galactic objects.

Most, no all of, the planets that were in view had the distinct honor of being part of the empire of one of the ship’s occupants. The planets had, in fact, taken on the name of their emperor and were accordingly numbered in the order of their capitulation.

Their namesake stood at one of the windows and looked upon his kingdom with a smile. He was looking at one planet in particular. It was the cause of much vexation for the emperor, so the cause of his smile was a complete mystery.

As the door slide open behind him, Frieza turned and looked inquisitively at the beautiful, blue-skinned humanoid that walked in. At least, he was beautiful to his master. A true rarity.

“Yes, Zarbon?”

Zarbon bowed low, almost going to one knee. “My lord, Saryl is growing restless and requests a purging mission.”

Frieza chuckled low in his throat. “Very well. The planet Yardrat will be a nice warm-up. Send him to me, though. We have a few things to take care of. Some monkey business, if you will.” he chuckled at his own joke, although it was oft used. “By the way, what word of his sister?”

“None, my lord. She and the other continue to elude us, but they can only be a planet or two ahead of us.”

“Which calculates into half a decade with your bungling mercenaries. I may have to call in my trump card.”

Frieza turned back to the window and the planet beyond, this time frowning. “The monkeys are becoming restless. I feel it won’t be long before they revolt. With their princess fled from my grasp, it won’t be too long until others, too, start to believe that they can escape me. I can’t allow that.”

He sighed with true regret, looking at the stark, red-lit landscape of Vegeta-sei. “And it was such a pretty planet too. A true rarity.”

Zarbon took this as a dismissal and bowed out of the room.

Minutes later, Saryl took Zarbon’s place before Frieza.

After a few moments of silence, Frieza finally spoke. “Come here, my son.”

Saryl obediently floated up beside him and couldn’t help but smile at his foster father.

Frieza motioned toward Vegeta-sei. “It pains me to have to tell you this, but—your father wishes you to return to your duties on Vegeta-sei.”

Saryl’s face fell and he looked at the planet in confusion that turned to anger.

Frieza looked at his troubled expression. “Speak and say what you are thinking, Saryl.”

Saryl looked back at him, young face inquisitive. “Why does the king who cast me away want to take me away from you? Does he want me now?” the last was bitter.

Frieza looked upon him with a tiny smile. “My son, you know as well as I that the king did not cast you aside. Do you take our time together so lightly?”

Saryl’s eyes widened at what Frieza thought he was implying. “No, Lord Frieza! I would never think such a thing! You have taken me in and taught me things I have never dreamed of. Were it not for you, I would not realize the errors of my race’s ways.” he looked at his home planet. “I just don’t understand why they continue to fight against your wisdom. Can they not see that only you are fit to truly serve the world?”

Frieza chuckled. “Ah, Saryl, not all are as wise as you. No, what really concerns me, my son, is the fact that your father seems to be taking you back sooner than he’d said. For this reason, I have requested an audience with him. I would like you to be there.”

Saryl nodded, still looking at the planet with furrowed brow. Frieza left him to his thoughts, chuckling to himself, So easy.

Two hours later, Frieza and Saryl stood before the ship’s gangplank as it lowered, slowly revealing the planet’s docking bay with a group of Saiyans gathered before the ship. The group consisted of the king and his bodyguards.

The king stood stiffly and proud as Frieza and his son calmly walked down the gangplank to stand before him. He took a quick glance at both Frieza and Saryl; one with a small smile gracing his black lips, the other with a hint of anger in his eyes. The king had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The king bowed to Frieza, as low as befitted one among equals. He frowned when Frieza did not move to return the bow, thereby making the king the lower in rank.

The silence stretched long and taunt, and the king grew agitated. Obviously Frieza expected him to initiate the conversation knowing the king could not. Frieza had demanded the audience and only Frieza knew why. However, Saiyans were not a patient people, and Frieza knew this.

“My Lord Frieza, might I ask why you have requested this audience?”

Saryl looked wide-eyed at Frieza, who himself had on a pained expression, partly marred by a twinkle of amusement in the eyes. “You would ask me that? Do you not know why?”

The king frowned. “It concerns Saryl.” He was unwilling to say any more. Frieza was practically radiating power. The king was sure that he was just waiting for an excuse to take total control of Vegeta-sei.

Frieza nodded sagely and narrowed his eyes, looking like nothing more than a pleased cat. By the look on Saryl’s face, the seven-year-old did not see this. “Yes. You wish him back.”

The king was confused. “Yes. I do.”

“Do you monkeys always go back on your word?” Frieza smiled cruelly, although his tone was slightly disappointed.

The king’s face turned a vivid shade of purple and he shook with barely contained rage. To insult them by calling them ‘monkey’ was one thing, but to question their honor….

Saryl was looking from the king to Frieza with a confused expression on his face. He did not understand the shadowy way in which the adults were talking. He only knew what Lord Frieza had told him.

Frieza continued his prodding, knowing the king would be unable to speak controllably. “So. The king wishes me to give him his heir back? Well, let’s just see what the Crown Prince thinks of this, hmm?” He looked down at Saryl with a kindly smile though his eyes still glittered gleefully.

Saryl nodded at Frieza and turned to his father. “My king, although I would love nothing more than to resume my duties as Crown Prince I feel that my lessons with Lord Frieza have not all been learned. There is so much I can learn from him. And I was promised to Frieza until I was twelve. I wish to stay with him till then.”

If the king hadn’t had more control, he would have gaped at his son. Looking at Frieza he could tell the lizard was laughing at him, even if not a trace of a smile was seen. His eyes said what his mouth did not.

The king realized suddenly why Frieza had called this impromptu meeting. He’d obviously told the boy that his father wanted him back before it was time for him to do so. A blatant lie, but one that Frieza had just demonstrated could not be refuted. Saryl was undoubtedly and completely loyal to the diminutive Ice-jin that now let a small, self-congratulatory smile alight on his face.

The king had no notion of how he’d done this, but knowing Frieza it had been both a pleasurable and easy task with Saryl’s tractable personality. As the silence of the king stretched thin the already distressed atmosphere, it was obviously rewarding as well.

The king had no notion of what to say. The game Frieza was playing was far too subtle for any normal Saiyan mind. Saiyans were direct and blunt, not shrewd and insinuating. If he called Frieza a liar, he would alienate his son and give Frieza a reason to usurp him. If he made true what was not, he would alienate his son and dishonor his people.

Frieza was simply delighted by the taste in the air, one of indecision and fear. Yes, he knew that Saiyans feared. They feared him.

“Have you nothing to say to your son, king? Is this the silence of guilt?”

The king grimaced. Frieza was forcing his hand. Saryl looked up at him with a tinge of betrayal that was quickly turning to anger.

The king made his decision. Yes, it was foolhardy. Yes, it was even suicidal. But he decided that he would rather do this than allow Frieza to completely corrupt Saryl, his son.

The king let fly a ki blast at Frieza that should have, probably would have, incinerated Frieza on the spot, for Frieza made no move to block or counter it.

The glare of the blast made a silhouette out of the small form as Saryl jumped in front of the blast intended for the despot and swung his arm in an arc. The ki blast rebounded off the arm and the force that was applied with it and hurtled right back at the shocked king.

Saryl watched in part awe, part shock as the blast enveloped the king, who let out one long, loud yell before the blast tore him apart. Everything was still as the king’s diadem, smoking, fell to the marble floor, ringing as its motion slowly stopped.

Frieza calmly stepped around the stunned Prince and picked up the crown, not feeling it burn into his skin, searing it and leaving the smell of roasted meat in the air. He approached the Prince with all decorum and proudly laid the round, silver circlet atop Saryl’s head.

“Long live, the king.”

It took awhile for the Prince, now crowned King, to absorb everything that had happened in that minute’s span, and he opened his mouth to protest.

“As custom dictates, when the Prince has proven himself worthy, he will step up as king. You have proven yourself worthy, Saryl, Crown Prince. Do you accept your duty as prince? Will you be king?”

To say no would be to invite dishonor upon his people. He wanted that no more than his father had. “I accept, Lord Frieza.”

Saryl knew he had made the right decision when Frieza smiled down at him, beaming with pride. Saryl turned to the guards who were still staring, shocked, at the pile of ash that had once been their king.

Saryl scowled at them. “You will show the proper respect to your king!”

He was angered even further when the men glanced at the person who had been just slightly behind the king, hair wild and disarrayed, a scar running along his left cheek. The man appeared indecisive at first, then, with a look at the lizard standing behind the prince, his face hardened. “No respect can be shown to a traitor.”

Saryl was shocked. He’d known his father to be dishonorable, but now it seemed as if his whole race had no honor. Rage filled him, swift and unmerciful. “What is your name, soldier?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Bardock.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I expect to hear you scream it as you die, traitor.”

With that, Bardock and those behind him attacked the Prince, who easily deflected every blow, every ki blast, they sent his way, face set in a permanent scowl.

Frieza, confidently standing behind the new king, merely watched in amusement as one by one, the soldiers were put down by simple, disdainfully given ki blasts from Saryl. He had taught the boy.

Saryl slowly powered down and looked at the carnage around him with an almost regretful air which Frieza did not like one bit. “Come, my son, there is nothing more we can do here.”

Saryl nodded, following Frieza docilely into the spaceship, head bowed, face in an expression of deep thought. Frieza let him have his thoughts, knowing approximately what they were revolving around.

Saryl stared out the portal of the ship at the receding planet and, as they exited the atmosphere, sighed regretfully. “Lord Frieza, could you open the portal please?”

Frieza looked slightly amused at this strange request but decided to humor the boy. He was curious to see what he would do.

Saryl again looked at his planet and spoke as if not only explaining to Frieza, but to himself as well. “I’m afraid my people will never grow wise, my Lord. They refuse to see the truth, the truth of your absolute rule. They do not realize that you do this so that they will be a better people, so that the universe will be a better place. As king, it is my duty to take care of my people. However, you have taught me, Lord Frieza, that is also my duty to take care of the universe.”

During this entire speech he had not once looked back at the lizard standing just behind him. He sighed again and raised a finger at his planet. Frieza felt a thrill of surprise and delight as a ki blast flew from the boy’s finger and connected with the hapless planet below. The ship rocked as the shock wave from the planet’s sudden and complete destruction rolled over it.

The boy had totally surprised him, he’d expected, even planned for the son killing his father, but this—this was priceless. He had planned on destroying the planet himself and then making up some story about a meteorite hitting it. He realized by the boy’s lowered head and abject face that he needed to manipulate a little more.

He laid a hand comfortingly on the boy’s shoulder, feeling it flinch beneath him. “You have done what had to be done, my son. I am truly proud of you. I, myself, could not have taken such action. It is a weakness for me, I’m afraid. I care too much.”

Saryl suddenly turned to look up at his mentor and father figure. “Your caring is what makes you fitting for the role of emperor. Never harden your heart, my Lord. Let me be the one who does that.”

Frieza smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Thank you, my son. That truly helps. I will always be there for you. Never forget that.”

Saryl nodded and smiled back. “I will never forget, my Lord.” *   *   * “…Lost in a valley of shadows and sinking sand
Hopeless was circling over my head…
…I was right on the edge of going out of mind…
…Like an angel of mercy, emotional savior…
…You rescued me in the nick of time

Nappa scowled at the little cockroach-like alien in front of him. The alien, wisely, cringed. “Are you sure?” Nappa growled.

“Y-yes sir! My source. He is very reliable. He is. He would not lie to me. No he wouldn’t. I would not lie to you. Wouldn’t dare,” the creature rambled.

Nappa sighed and rubbed his head with one huge hand. This was not good. He could not imagine telling the Princess this, but it must be done. He just hoped she didn’t kill the messenger.

As Nappa sighed and let his arm flop back down to his side, the Arlian greedily held out his hand. Nappa reached into his pocket and drew out the shiny piece of metal that these aliens used to seal all transactions. The Arlian bit down on the money and nodded to himself, satisfied that it was real. With a nervous grin up at the Saiyan, he turned and quickly walked away.

Nappa merely smirked and fired a ki blast at the annoying little bug, instantly leaving nothing but a burnt mark and something shiny, which Nappa retrieved and put back in his pocket. No need to waste the little coin. Never knew when he’d need new information.

With a grimace, Nappa turned and took off into the air. The Princess was not going to be happy.

Meanwhile, just a few miles away, Bulma was again going over their plan. She was decidedly nervous. They had been on Arlia for two weeks, and she was starting to feel that itch that meant they had stayed in one place for too long. Nappa had insisted they stay for just a little longer. He’d said they needed more information before continuing on to Earth.

Earth. It had first been mentioned by Nappa about three months after they had left Vegeta-sei. Bulma had been wondering aloud about what sort of plan they should have when Nappa had surprisingly popped up and said that they were going to Earth. She had been angry with him at the time for assuming command, but at the same time, relieved. If it had taken her three months to snap out of it long enough to realize they needed a plan, how long would it have taken to come up with one?

Nappa went on to explain that Earth was where a Saiyan named Kakarott had been sent, when he was just an infant, to purge it. For some reason, the purging had never been accomplished. Whether the Saiyan was alive or not was open to conjecture, but Nappa assured her that even if they couldn’t recruit Kakarott to help in the defeat of Frieza, whoever had killed a third-class Saiyan would certainly be useful too.

Bulma sighed and got up from her crossed-leg position, pacing in impatience as she waited for Nappa to get back. Her tail was wrapped tightly around her waist, a testament to the fact that she didn’t feel safe here, even if the Arlians were supposed to be pacifists.

As the scouter attached to her eyes beeped and she slid the eyepiece over her eye, watching the numbers on the screen rise to Nappa’s level. She turned in his direction, watching with a frown as he landed and took his own sweet time in sauntering over to her. “Well? Are we clear to go now?” she snapped.

Nappa winced suddenly and Bulma was put on her guard at the hesitant look on his face. “Spit it out, Nappa.”

Nappa looked away from her and mumbled something to the ground. Bulma quickly crossed the distance between her and her bodyguard, fixing him with a stare that made him squirm as she put a hand under his chin and forced him to look at her.

Nappa gulped audibly. “FriezadestroyedVegeta-sei.”

The rushed sentence did not pass Bulma’s Saiyan hearing, and her hand dropped numbly from Nappa’s chin, giving him a much-needed excuse to drop his gaze from her suddenly shocked and bereft eyes.

A slight tremor went through Bulma’s body as the information sunk in. Vegeta-sei, her people, her father, her broth— “What about Saryl?”

“He’s still with Frieza by all accounts.”

Bulma’s eyes flashed. “Come on.” She turned on her heel and stalked to their pod, whirling back around when she saw that Nappa had not moved from his spot. “Didn’t you hear me, first-class? I said let’s go! I’ve dealt with your insubordination for far too long. Do not think that I will deal with it any longer.”

Nappa quickly nodded and raced to catch up with her, as she was already halfway to the ship. “Where are we going, your highness?”

Her face became grim. “Wherever Frieza is. He will learn the penalty of thinking he can kill any Saiyan without repercussions.”

Nappa’s eyes widened as he recognized the look in Bulma’s eyes. She knew she would not win the fight, that she would be killed. The bad thing was, she was taking him with her. “But, your majesty…”

Bulma rounded on him. “You dare to question me, Nappa? I am your princess and as such I demand total loyalty from you! You give it now or I will personally see you into oblivion!”

Nappa quickly went to one knee, head bowed. “Your majesty, I have always and will always be loyal to you. As a loyal Saiyan to the Crown, it is my duty to protect you from any harm befalling you. If you take on Frieza now, before we are ready, harm will surely befall you. I only wish to protect you, your majesty, I swear it!”

He dared to raise his head and saw that her look had not changed, although she didn’t act as if she was planning on killing him now. “Princess Bulma, your death will not help Prince Saryl.”

The comment must have struck, for she turned from him, arms crossed on her chest. He rose and had to fight down the urge to lay a hand on her shoulder for comfort. “We must go to Earth. There we can recruit Kakarott or whoever killed him. There we can train. Frieza’s eyes have not latched on to that sector of the galaxy yet. We will have time to plan our attack. We will have time to ensure our success. Then you will avenge your people, princess.”

Bulma’s rigid stance did not relax, but neither did she turn around. “I will think on this, Nappa.” She hurriedly strode to the ship. At the entrance, she turned around and looked at Nappa, thanking him with her eyes, as she could not say the words aloud.

Nappa sighed and raised his hand to rub his brow as she continued on into the ship to sleep. He was getting a headache. Certainly he wasn’t used to thinking this much!

Inside the pod, Bulma flopped down into her chair, leaning back, closing her eyes, and putting a hand on her forehead, unconsciously mimicking Nappa.

Within moments, the stress of her shock and grief plunged her into a deep slumber.

She stood in the bowels of some unfamiliar ship. Her brow furrowed in confusion until recognition set in. She was on Frieza’s ship. She guessed she must have decided to come fight him anyways, despite the odds.

She was perplexed by the lack of anything alive on this ship but then was startled by an almost forgotten presence hovering in the air. A thorough scan of the room showed no one yet she knew that something was here, something she recognized faintly.

The sudden entrance of Frieza into the room caught and held her attention. The small lizard had a sneer plastered on his face and Bulma immediately got into a fighting stance, rage etched in every line of her body.

She blinked in astonishment as Frieza walked right past her, not even glancing in her direction, to stare out the window.

She turned to follow his movement and felt her heart leap into her throat as she spied what he was looking at.

There was Vegeta-sei, as whole and breathtakingly beautiful as it had been when she had last been there.

Frieza calmly raised a hand, and Bulma screamed out and moved to tackle the murderer. She had no voice here though, and her feet would not move from where they were.

She could only watch in horror as her planet was destroyed, as the agonized cries of thousands of Saiyans filled the room. She blinked, realizing that Frieza was gone from the room, as if Vegeta-sei’s demise were so trivial, he didn’t even have to stay and watch it.

She felt her knees weaken, but she locked them into place, stubbornly refusing to bow down under her grief. She felt the heat in her eyes that signaled the beginning of tears and quickly stopped them as well, forcing a hard and cold feeling into the pit of her stomach. She was made of tougher stuff then this. She was the Saiyan Princess.

She felt that suicidal rage build up in her till it took an effort to even breath properly. Her vision swam with red and her fists clenched. She would take on the tyrant. She could do no less. To run would be dishonorable. She knew it meant her death, but she didn’t care. Her people had all died, why shouldn’t she join them?

Against her will, one tear managed to escape her eye and trail down her cheek.

She let out a soft gasp of surprise as she felt a finger gently wipe away the tear though no one was in front of her.

“Don’t be an idiot!” a gruff yet calm voice said. “Your own death will avail neither you nor the dead anything. It would not be dishonorable to strategize your next move, but it would be foolhardy to recklessly jump into battle wishing your own death. Death is as light as a feather, duty as heavy as a mountain.” The last sentence faded as the scenery around her did the same….

She suddenly found herself in a darkened room. A man, his form blurry where everything else was clear, stood crouched before her, tensed and on alert, one foot slightly off the ground. She stiffened as his eyes grazed where she was and then sighed in relief as they continued on. He couldn’t see her.

He continued on in his stealthy manner and she found herself following him into a room. He stood up beside the bed in the room and looked down at a small boy that lay there with a small, content smile on his face.

The man scowled down at the boy and his hand rose, knife glinting in it. Bulma was sure the man would complete his action, but the knife hand merely trembled and the man’s brow furrowed. 

As the man stood there Bulma could hear his thoughts as clearly as if he’d said them aloud.

This man would have been the greatest warrior but for this one child. This child, innocently, was grounding this man’s pride to dust, and the man was struggling to hold the tattered remains together.

As he lowered the knife, Bulma saw his body shaking with repressed rage. They were outside of the house, on what appeared to be a tiny island.

Bulma watched him stop his trembling only with great effort, but Bulma could tell that he had merely buried his rage, not defeated it.

He clenched his fists in front of his body and looked down at them with an angry expression, anger at himself.

He was supposed to kill this child, but his pride demanded an outright fight and that he believed he would never win. For this reason, others doubted his abilities. They were trying to kill him in an effort to prove his ineptness at being a warrior. The man was hunted and looked and acted that way. He stared in the mirror and did not recognize himself.

She found herself very close to him. She wanted him to stop looking at his hands, she wanted to break his train of thought, so she grabbed his hands in a comforting hold. He looked wildly up but stared right through her. He could not see her.

“Your inability to defeat one foe does not make you an inept warrior.” his eyes flickered back and forth frantically. He could hear her, so she continued. “It is your own doubt, not the others’ that weakens your resolve. Perhaps, if you don’t like what is in the mirror, you should change it.”  The man and the scenery faded around her….

She lurched halfway of the chair before she realized that she was no longer in the dream and exhaustedly fell back into the chair.

“Princess, are you okay?”

She turned her head to look at Nappa. “Yes, Nappa. I am much better. It seems all I needed was some sleep. Well, get your butt moving! We’re going to Earth.” she smirked. “That is, unless you’d rather go take on Frieza.”

With an adamant shake of his head, Nappa climbed into the pod, not questioning Bulma’s sudden decision, merely glad she had made it. He programmed the pod on automatic and both he and Bulma leaned back for the yearlong wait till they got to planet Earth as the pod lifted off of Arlia and sped through space.