Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Live Well ❯ War ( Chapter 7 )

Live Well

Chapter Seven: War

Radittsu sat beside Kakarotto with a slight wince once the prince had left them. She stared at him, continuing to fear that he might say or do something that would allude to their relation, but he did nothing except watch her. Forcing herself to turn from him, she watched Sunabi for her move, and wished that the woman didn't look so aware of everything occuring around her.

Sunabi's eyes darted to her brother only twice before the man was at last ignored - to Kakarotto's relief. Inspecting their game one final time, she made her move, putting several second-class soldiers against a solitary Elite of Kakarotto's army.

As the peasant army - more often referred to as the Rebellion or Rebel Army of the game - her pieces were much weaker than the army that Sunabi had chosen. Kakarotto had not been relying on their strength in the matches before, however. Instead, she had exploited weaknesses of the other armies.

Since the game screen was not set on survival mode - the peasant army's best mode to play in - she had no stockpiles to help heal her troops faster. The screen had been put into the desert arena though, and the desert arena was as much the peasants' home turf as survival mode was. They healed slower than usual, but the Rebel Army was the fastest healing army of the game, so this did no real harm to her play.

Kakarotto's Elite troops were scattered across the board in seemingly random positions, solitary and apart from the rest. Each Rebel Elite was hardly a match against even a small second-class squadron of the Grand Army - which was Sunabi's choice of army.

Many players often forgot to take into account how accurate this game tended to be.

Back in the beginning of the skirmish when she had realized Sunabi's skill, Kakarotto had sent several of her third-class soldiers to die against a squad of Elites. Those that had survived the assault were not more than fifty meters from where Sunabi's second-class squad had been recently positioned.

Rebel third-class soldiers were the fastest healing troops of the game. With the desert as their backdrop, Kakarotto's army was fully healed, and most of her third-class actually ranked among second-class due to the culling against Sunabi's Elite squad.

Culling was not commonly practiced in the game, but that was only due to the popularity of the other more powerful armies. The Imperial Army was usually unbeatable when its commander was even remotely competent, and often regarded as a cheat unless the player was a beginner. The Grand Army was the next step down, and was an army based on their crushing power. The Guard Army was made with strong pieces, but their edge was in their ability to move fast and efficiently - almost up on par with the Imperial Army.

With the Rebel Army, their only real strength was their survival skills, hunting and gathering supplies. In full-scale war games, players were supposed to handle all four armies, and the peasant army was usually given the task of stockpiling. When alone, however, culling was a necessity to strengthen it - which was where their healing came into play quite effectively.

Should Sunabi move the second-class squad into attack position, Kakarotto could easily flank it with the third-class soldiers, and crush it against her Elite. It would be a numbing blow to Sunabi's army if none survived.

After this, she predicted that it would be simple to back her down into a corner. Her only problem after this would be dealing with her Elite squadron, but all in good time. Kakarotto would have to regroup her troops after this ambush, and heal. She had no illusions that Sunabi would pass it off as a fluke. The Noblewoman would realize that the Rebels' healing properties had been used to their fullest extent, and she would have to react accordingly.

Kakarotto was hoping Sunabi just might fall apart after the attack. Yet, she wasn't sure that even that could rattle the woman enough that she would lose easily.

The plays were soon made in rapid succession. She watched her opponent's pretty face merely frown at the loss of a good squad. After the squad was lost, Kakarotto saw her brother twitch in silent laughter.

Allowing herself to smile too, Kakarotto said idly, “Hmm, the tea isn't up yet …”

---

“Wretched, wretched!” She fumed, stomping up and down the halls. Sunabi's white petticoats swung to and fro with a furiousness that she was sure Arba had never seen. The queen reached over when the young girl settled down, and touched her shoulder.

“Tell me exactly what happened. Surely, you didn't lose that badly. She must have had quite a problem against you with her army.” The younger woman huffed, shoulders rankling before she smoothed her face out carefully, wary of wrinkling her beauty. As Queen Arba began to speak again, she slowly calmed down, “You're the brilliant daughter of the even more brilliant General Nappa.”

“I missed a culling. A culling,” she said, attempting to not crease the area around her eyes too much - that was where the worst of the wrinkles would appear. “It was so well done, and executed, I didn't even notice until I lost a second-ranked squad. My father would have seen it, and humiliated her, as she deserves. The little tart.”

Arba sighed softly, and Sunabi bowed her head to her, “… You're forgiven, but your idea has merit.” Sunabi raised a cool eyebrow before she quickly smiled in understanding. The queen nodded, and said, “If she beat you, then perhaps she should play a game with the general. It would be a grand idea to … play with that tactical mind.”

“When my father is through with her, that tactical mind will be a pile of bloody, gray mush in the prince's hands.”

---

Vegeta could have sworn that Bardock's hair had been different in his picture. Most of it had been off screen, but the style had a remarkable similarity to his wife's. However, up close, he saw that most spikes were in larger messier clumps. Perhaps, he had been merely mistaken.

He set the file down on the table in front of him, and stared a while longer at the squad across from it. He said, “Your files check out. The efficiency of your work in the last fifteen years has been outstanding. The first mistakes of the five years of your twenty year union are from getting to know one another, correct?” Bardock nodded for the group. Vegeta smirked, “You especially pulled this team together - in quick order too. What kind of man is so dedicated that his team gets such a great reputation?”

The third-class smiled with no humor, “A man that has little to look forward to at home.” He shrugged when Vegeta sat up straight, his brows perking in curiosity, “My daughter was born fifteen years ago into a life of poverty and sickness. She finally … left our lives a few days ago. My son was never a big help with it all, and disappeared soon after the funeral. With my wife, there's been little change in her behavior because she's been grieving since my daughter's first breath in this world.”

“Your loss has made you strong though,” the prince stood, and reached over to shake his hand. Afterward, he sat again, and addressed the team as a whole, “You and your families will be compensated handsomely for your work on Kanassa-sei. In fact, I can assure this mercenary team a good standing in my army once the planet is cleansed.”

Pambukin - the round Saiyajin - perked up after noticing that Bardock had become awfully quiet. He said cautiously, “Your army, sir?”

“I think that soldiers like you deserve the best,” he said, ignoring the question. By now, it was obvious that Vegeta was his father's son. Royalty didn't often go on-screen to show their faces publicly, and it was only due to the recent wedding that Vegeta had finally been allowed to reveal his face to commoners. It was no shock to him that they hadn't recognized his face. Rather, he would have been surprised if they had. “By all accounts, you should have been recruited into the Royal Army years ago. After judging your worth and power levels, I've decided to advance you all into the rank of first-class. There, you'll be among equals. With good social standing, it's not too farfetched of a thought that your grandchildren might be promoted to Elites.”

The members looked excitedly at one another - all except Bardock who continued to stare at the prince, considering. Vegeta stood after a moment to appear larger, lifting his chin slightly to meet his gaze, and wondered whether the man would challenge him. Bardock grunted then, “If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay a third-class. I must think of my wife's temperament first. I don't think a sudden shift from the simple life into that of luxury would be beneficial.”

Grimacing slightly when he realized that the captain's rejection had changed the minds of his team, Vegeta thought through again, reevaluating on how to recruit them into the army. He said slowly, “I see, and I understand after a fashion. Perhaps, when she is well again, I can arrange the transfers. It would be a shame to lose skilled veterans such as yourselves.”

“Maybe,” Bardock said, “but I don't think she'll ever get better after this. Ever since Radittsu's disappearance-”

Vegeta jerked to attention, “Your son's name is Radittsu?”

“… What is he doing here?”

“I just hired the man as my wife's eunuch guard.” Bardock grimaced, and the prince shrugged, “Well, this is a bad way to tell you that your son won't be continuing your line, but maybe your wife will get better when she finds out he's alive.”

The man suddenly frowned, “Why do you want us in the army so much?”

He raised another brow at his astuteness, but answered, “Good soldiers like you shouldn't rot away as mercenaries for the rest of their lives. The Royal Army could always use a fresh squadron.” When the captain glanced at his team, he thought, And a third-class with your kind of strength would have too much influence over the masses. Either you will accept my offer, becoming an outsider to the third-class scum, or you will die like scum after this mission is through.

---

“You're risking everything by being here,” Kakarotto whispered, looking around her parlor often. “Don't you understand subtlety at all? If you let even one clue slip, we'll both be feeling cold iron chains.”

“I suspect worse than chains actually,” he said dryly.

“And …!” She looked pointedly down at Radittsu's lap, “After those boasts of all the bastards you would leave across Afafal, you forsake them all. Bardock must be furious.”

Smiling wanly, he said, “Dad doesn't know … and neither does Mom.”

Gaping, Kakarotto then shook her head, and sat back with a groan, “Everything was starting to go so well, Radittsu. The prince and I are trying to work through all the bumps right now. I was making progress - I could feel it … Why did you come here?”

“My little sister died.”

She twitched, eyes glancing around again before she whispered, “Yes, I heard of her death a few days ago before my wedding. She's dead, Radittsu, dead and gone. You won't find her here.”

“She didn't die then,” he mumbled. “She left us eight years ago when she was told she was born to die. She breathed, she spoke, she ate, and she drank, but she never lived again.”

Kakarotto stilled, swallowing nothing before she picked up a cup of tea, and sipped the warm drink inside. She said slowly, “That's a shame. She … could have become so many things.”

“She's dead though, and I never even knew her. That's the real tragedy,” Radittsu sighed, and then looked up at the ceiling before he laughed. “It's nice to see that someone studied up on Dad's tactics though.”

“Yes, well, the prince has a lot of books on war too.” Her brother frowned, and she blinked, “What? He has them up in his study to read up on. I'm only in there to eat with the prince, and make sure he doesn't eat too much, so I have a lot of time of doing nothing. And it's not like the prince will just be allowed to become the emperor - he has to know what he's doing when on the battlefield and commanding an army.”

“The prince … Doesn't he have a name?” His brow quirked in amusement, and she stared at him, not comprehending. “I mean, don't you ever say Vegeta?”

Kakarotto was about to answer with a resounding `yes' before she stopped short in befuddlement. She played with the teacup in her hand as she recalled that, in fact, she hadn't heard the name uttered ever since their official announcement at the end of the wedding. Had she ever cried his name in passion? “No. They've always called him a prince. The king is a king, and the emperor is an emperor. I just call him my Lord Husband.”

It was his turn to stare, “Is it some kind of crime to say it to their face or something? A wife should be able to call her husband whatever she wants. Say it. Vegeta.”

“Vegeta,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Now, don't be so dramatic. It just never came to my mind to call him that. Besides, there are three men that have the same name. It would be difficult to just call them by their names all the time.” Kakarotto sighed, taking the cup to her lips again, and whispered to the side of it before she drank, “Vegeta …”

He didn't want to be called `Prince' by the emperor yesterday. Maybe he actually wants to be called by his real name. There's no reason to not call him by his name after all. It might be confusing in front of his father and grandfather though, so I'll start when we're alone. She smiled, Yes. That sounds good.

---

“Bardock?” Toma murmured, and touched his shoulder, “What's wrong? I thought you wanted to do this mission. Now you're acting so edgy. Was it because the prince actually showed his face? I know it's unorthodox for Royals, but he did just get married. That gives him the right to show his face now.”

“Damn it,” Celipa said, “if you turn superstitious on us, Bardock, I'll kick your ass. We have a job to do. A damned good one too.”

He turned to face them all before he said quietly, “I think he wants me dead.” His troops' expressions turned from worried, and admonishing to livid. He walked faster, saying as they followed close, “Did you notice? He really wanted me especially to join the ranks. I have influence over you guys, and it showed. If he let me do my own thing, I could turn against him and the army. Hell, for all he knows, I could actually do some damage since he was going to put us in with the first-class.”

“Shit, and there's no way to turn a Saiyajin into a martyr,” Toma said. “To us Saiyajin, if you're a dead, powerful third-class that would never have dirtied the prince's boots, you're still dead.”

“Precisely, and putting me into the rank of first-class means that none of them would follow my lead in a thousand generations.” Grunting, he rubbed his chin, “And we can't just drop out now. He'd kill me for sure.”

Toma leaned over and grinned, “Just fake your own death. You've come so close to dying so many times in our missions, it's a wonder you're not dead right now anyway. Once that happens, Taanipu fakes suicide. You two could start over somewhere.”

“Yeah,” the female Saiyajin agreed, “no one would think there was anything wrong. She already lost her kids, and if she lost you, everyone would assume she'd off herself anyway. It's perfect.”

The captain sighed, nodding with a heavy heart. She didn't lose them. I lost them. When they reached the exit of the palace, he peered over the marketplace, trying to remember the address of the man's pub. “I'll think about it, but I actually have a much better idea.” I've found them now though, and they're both here at the palace. Maybe I can give them back to her.

---

“We're not open,” the smuggler said when he heard the door open and close, the determined footfalls echoing around the room. He put the scouter into a case, sighing when the stranger kept walking toward him. Pulling out another scouter, he began to open the back before he carefully scraped out the microchip of the previous owner, and crushed it. Setting the clasps into place again, he gave the scouter a quick polish before he put it beside the other pilfered scouter.

“Someone's asking for a job, smuggler.” With a sigh, the smuggler closed the case, and glowered sourly at the alien.

“And who is this someone?” He squinted at the man. Garbed in a black cloak that smelled like it had just come from a servant's livery, the man appeared to be the smuggler's height, and of the same build. The stature piqued his interest as it was familiar in some nostalgic way. As the man continued to just stand there, his hood up and over his head in some mockery of mysticism, his lips began to twitch into a grin, “… Bardock, I didn't know that my little brother turned into a messenger boy. I'd have hired you on the spot.”

“In truth, I've become a target,” he said, and sat down, opposite to the smuggler who sat up straight, abruptly serious. Bardock moved as if to pull off the hood that concealed his scarred face, but the pirate shook his head, and raised a hand - a gesture meant to stop the motion. His brother ceased, and pretended that the move was meant to adjust the hem. It had been years before, but the smuggler had taught his brother some of the basics of working outside of the law. A target showing one's face when they were talking with a potential savior put both in danger.

“Tell me who wants my little brother dead. I'll do all I can to prevent your passing.” A smirk passed over his features, morbid and glinting with madness, “They'll know only the cold embrace of a knife - the death of a thousand cowards.”

He could just barely see the smile that curved on Bardock's thin lips, “That won't be necessary. In fact, I was hoping you would help me die.”

Twitching, the space pirate growled, “Look, I know you lost your daughter, but this is madness. Radittsu - wherever the little punk is - still needs a father figure, and Taanipu would be devastated. I'm sorry I wasn't there for the funeral, but Kakarotto would have understood. You all know how hectic it can get around here.”

“Kakarotto” - Bardock lifted the hem of his hood a fraction, and grinned at his older brother - “is alive. Radittsu … has been castrated, but he's relatively safe, and with her. Taanipu needs help in this too, so I'm going to say this again. She and I need to disappear so we can meet with them again.”

“I see,” he sat back into his seat before he frowned. “Don't let word get around that Radittsu is castrated. Or they'll make the connection that I just made.” His little brother jerked, but the smuggler just grinned, “The new princess' eunuch bodyguard was just hired. I saw something about it on the news an hour ago. Now I'd love to know how you got into that kind of mess, but we have some deaths to plan first.”

“Not only that, but I need you to … tend to some flames. You see, I'm sure my new son-in-law doesn't know who I am, but he's the one after me. If you do me this favor, my family and I will be perfectly safe, and the Royal Family will be no more.” His brother smiled after a moment, “You'll have fun; I promise, but you have to leave within the hour. Is kidnapping up your alley?”

“Kidnapping, extortion, assassinations …” Turles smirked, “Just tell me, little brother, and I'd steal the moon for you.”

---

Vegeta sipped his wine, finding it more to his taste than the whiskey. The thought of the whiskey made him think of his mother, and he wondered again how she had not grimaced at its taste. Setting aside his goblet, he turned back to the papers in front of him and his father. The man had been set back for quite a few days due to the interrogations, and Vegeta had set aside his free time to help him.

Halfway through sorting out the demands, and contracts of his father's planets, he was reaching for his goblet when the vid-screen chimed. His father and he shared a look when the chime was recognized as the emperor's signature ring. Vegeta went to answer it.

“Emperor,” he intoned before he bowed to the man, and then returned to his father's side. He didn't touch the papers when he saw that the king had stopped his work, and he waited as his father rose to bow properly.

After a moment, Vegeta realized that his grandfather was the only one in the room shown on the screen, and so his father said, “Father, what will you have of me?” Since the prince and king were the only two people on their side of the connection, the formalities of the court could drop.

The man that Vegeta had only met in person twice - once as an infant, and the second time at his ascension into a prince as a boy - suddenly smiled, lounging back. He said, “Nothing. I would talk with my son and grandson for a while though. I take it that your wives are acting more proper to one another.” When they nodded, the king immediately, and the prince after a surprised silence, he steeped his fingers together, “What of your training, prince?”

“Very well,” he said, smirking to himself in amusement, “I've reached twenty-five thousand in strength. General Nappa doesn't know what to do with me anymore.”

“You've beaten us both then,” the emperor said, and Vegeta twitched, not sure how to respond to that. “I'd break away from the good general now. Train on your own from now on and as often as you can. You can never know when you'll need that strength in the future. As busy as you will become as emperor, you can't expect to find the time to become much stronger other than to keep in shape. I hardly have any time at all. In closing, you must keep the blood strong.”

He went silent then, and the king clapped his hand onto Vegeta's shoulder, “This duty is usually meant for the son of the prince. As of yet, however, there is no such son, so the responsibility falls to you.”

“And as to the son of the prince …?”

Vegeta's head spun, going around, and thinking of everything that had just been said to him before he finally found his footing. He said, “I've seen no signs yet. At any rate, she's still young, and we've only been consummating the marriage for less than a week.”

The emperor nodded, “I look forward to the sight of the true heir of the prince. May it be soon.” He smiled wryly, “If only I had not rushed forward as I did. You would still just be an heir apparent, Prince, and you, King, would be the Prince Heir.” Frowning, Vegeta inspected his grandfather, wondering at the odd words. “How I've messed up our world in my greed. In my time, I had been powerful too, grandson.” Vegeta swallowed uneasily. “The moment I realized that my current wife was capable, and that my current son was the true heir, I struck, soon gaining the emperor's throne. I've never done anything more foolish since.”

“I've realized your mistakes,” Vegeta said carefully. “It is not my intention to further spoil our line.”

“Indeed,” the king said, “you've bettered it. Once your true wife and heir have been discovered, your duty to uphold your strength shall be lessened, and passed on to your son. After that, we can finally start to concentrate on the Saiyajin Empire with all our will.”

“As it should be,” his grandfather said. “Then this unnecessary culling can stop.” His father cut his eyes to the man, looking rather insistant for silence before the emperor just shook his head. “He'll learn on his own in good time. I can only pray that he won't be too angry.”

---

No! Angry!? Angry over what!? Waaaaaah! … -shrugs- You'll find out when the prince does, now quit your bitching.

And yes, Turles is now here.

You may all bow down now.

---