Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Chapter 47

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters featured therein; they belong to Akira Toriyama and whoever he's decided to share them with.

Author's Notes: I'm sorry to have been such a buttface; it's been a really long time since the last update and I feel bad about that. I'm not going to go into details, but life sort of flipped upside down in the middle of February, and I floundered for a few months trying to deal with it. Things are not fixed, but they are okay for now. Thanks for your patience.

LAST TIME: The Burter Brigade found diddly on Harbour Colony, though Burter and Jeice did get all kinds of drunk and partied in all kinds of ways that they don't much remember. Bulma and Sixteen discussed Goku's condition and then Bulma helped Zarbon deliver a coded thank-you message to Burter. Zarbon got beat up by Vegeta for territorial reasons, but Bulma wasn't having any of that. Piccolo had a conversation with Dende about merging and splitting, and Bulma made up with Vegeta. We left off in the middle of the night, as Puar was going into the common room to watch TV with Tien.

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PRESENT DAY

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Puar clutched his pillow tightly to his chest as he floated slowly down the hall toward the common room, where Tien was watching tv. He could see the light flashing on the walls through the doorway, but the sound was so low that he could hardly even pick it up. That wasn't unusual; Tien was not accustomed to watching the television for entertainment. He relied on it to keep him awake when dreams were more than he could handle.

Puar wondered if anyone else on the ship knew just how problematic Tien's insomnia had become. The former assassin tended to keep to himself already; it was easy to not notice the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the slow, burdened way in which he moved, as though wearing doubly weighted clothing. It wasn't always that way, of course, and it wasn't as though the others didn't care enough to notice, it was just that they were busy. With no special talents of his own, there were few demands on Puar's time. He wasn't expected to train like the fighters, nor spend his hours in the lab, dreaming up new machines and improvements to existing ones. He wasn't particularly good at cooking, and his skill at doctoring didn't go far beyond basic first aid. He'd spent a lot of time on the ship's radios, listening carefully for any news or reports regarding Red Station or the resistance, but with the coming of the nameks, there were many ears to share the work.

So Puar did what he was asked to do around the ship, he helped Bulma in her lab and kept Radditz warm at night, and when he wasn't busy with those things, he slept and he watched. It didn't bother him; he was used to being a sidekick.

Quietly and without comment, Puar floated into the common room and set himself up on the couch beside Tien. He cuddled his pillow close and sank into the cushions. Tien turned the volume up on the tv just a few notches, so that it was comfortably audible.

“You couldn't sleep?” he asked, after a few minutes.

“Nah,” Puar said, not offended by the fact that Tien had neither greeted him nor even looked his way yet. It was only recently that the triclops had begun to initiate conversation in these night-time vigils of theirs. It wasn't that he was being standoffish, Puar knew, it was just that he didn't have the energy to fake sociability like he did during the day. “Radditz is all over the place tonight. Fighting monsters in his sleep or something. He rolled on top of me and almost crushed me.”

That comment almost drew a smile from Tien, who had finally started to grow easier around the saiyans. They weren't his favourite people and never would be, but he'd learned enough of their personalities outside the ring to be able to disassociate them from the soldiers who'd captured him on Earth. He still didn't go train with them, but at least he was no longer hiding himself from them…well, no more than he was hiding from everybody else.

“I'm not bothering you, am I?” Puar asked, well aware that sometimes Tien hid from him, too.

“No, it's fine.” Tien flipped to another channel. “I could probably do with the company, anyway. I've been,” he paused, “thinking too much.”

“About what?” Puar asked, inching closer. He put a tentative paw on Tien's leg and when the other man didn't say anything about it, the cat climbed up into Tien's lap and curled into a ball. Tien's hand found the back of Puar's head automatically, fingers scrunching gently behind tiny blue ears just so. “Tien?” the cat prompted, and he felt the man's hand tense in the scruff of his neck.

“Chaouzu,” he said, after a long moment. “I was thinking about him.”

“Will you tell me what happened?” Puar let out an undignified little squeak, his rump rising as Tien's hand passed all the way down his back. It was not a fitting moment for such a sound, but he couldn't help it. Tien appeared not to have noticed, and had resumed scratching Puar's ears. The cat closed his eyes and sighed in bliss. Tien petted the way Yamcha had. It was the automatic gesture of a human in relation to an animal, where Radditz's petting had a far different quality, one that made him blush just to think about it.

“He died.” Tien said, and Puar's eyes popped open in surprise. They'd all assumed it so, but Tien had never been willing to discuss it before. He'd never actually said the words. “He self destructed…on Earth. To save me.” Puar could feel the tension in Tien's legs and he tried very hard to be still and quiet, so as not to interrupt the moment. Tien's hand had stopped moving; it was resting on Puar's ribcage, and the cat could feel it trembling as fingers clenched in his fur. It hurt, and he tried not to squirm. “He took out fifty men, easily,” Tien continued, “but it wasn't enough. They kept coming, so many…”

“I'm sorry,” Puar murmured, but Tien's eyes were far away, as though he wasn't aware of what was happening around him anymore. His grip on Puar's neck relaxed for a moment, but it tightened again when he next spoke.

“There were times in the camp…the slave camp…I thought it would be better to join him. There were no weapons to hand, and I lacked the strength to do it myself. It was the only thing I could have done for myself…and I could not.”

Puar turned to face Tien, stood on his hind legs, and put both his front paws on Tien's cheeks. The motion startled the triclops and he looked down into the little cat's face. The fur between Puar's toepads tickled his face, and even retracted, he could feel the tips of sharp little claws poking his skin. “I'm glad,” Puar said, and repeated it when he felt the moisture of Tien's tears soaking into his fur. “We are all glad that you lived. Don't be so foolish. We've lost enough, all of us. Don't you go, too.”

Tien's arms shot out, as though on their own, and he hugged Puar tightly to his chest. Puar reached up and wrapped his stubby little cat arms around Tien's neck. No sooner than he had buried his face in the crook of Tien's shoulder, Puar heard the growling.

“Oh shit,” he said, stiffening in Tien's grasp as he caught sight of Radditz standing in the doorway. Tien turned too, immediately letting go and hopping off the couch. He backed away a few steps as Radditz advanced, naked but for a pair of black underwear. Illuminated only in the erratic, flashing light of the television screen, with his shadow dancing madly on the wall, he looked ten times bigger than he actually was. “Radditz,” Puar said, and floated a hesitant foot forward. He darted back again when the warrior's aura flared and Radditz let out something unintelligible in Saiyan. Puar's grasp of the language was limited mostly to things that his mate gasped out in bed, but he knew Radditz well enough to know that what was being said was not good.

“What the fuck?” Radditz demanded, this time in Standard.

“It's not-” Puar started to say, but was interrupted as Tien grabbed him and pulled him back, setting the airborne cat firmly behind him. It was meant to be a protective gesture, one borne purely of instinct, but the agitated saiyan only saw the hands that had been holding his cat, grasping him once again.

“Don't fucking touch him!” Radditz was across the room before the Earthlings could even blink, shoving Tien into the entertainment stand. The television rocked with the impact, and light bathed the room, colours scattering the ceiling, then the floor as it tipped back and forth. It was saved from falling by Tien's back as it hit him with a loud thump. He grunted, feeling the air leave his lungs, and wheezed desperately for breath. His head spun and Radditz's crackling energy was a dull roar in his ears. Dimly, he heard Puar shrieking in the background, and suddenly the beast's hands were off him. Radditz backed away, snarling, and Tien saw that Puar was clinging madly to the thrashing saiyan's shoulder, his little claws dug into Radditz's cheek. A trail of blood seeped down Radditz's face and onto his chest, and there were scratches down one of his arms. He reached up and tried to grab the wriggling animal, spinning in the process, to reveal a series of bleeding punctures leading up his back.

Radditz grabbed a hold of Puar by the scruff of his neck, and howled as the cat bit into his shoulder. He yanked and blood spattered the floor as a chunk of him tore away too. Puar gagged and spit, his stomach curdling at the taste of saiyan blood on his tongue. Radditz flung him away, a pop and a puff of smoke and Puar was crouching on the ground in his human form, naked, his lips smeared red. The saiyan advanced, uncaring or unaware of the gaping wound in his shoulder. His chest was heaving, his fingers twitching at his sides, and Puar was reminded of their first encounter on Red Station, in the gravity chamber with Bulma and Vegeta looking on.

“Radditz,” his voice cracked and he huddled against the wall, feeling small and afraid.

“You're mine,” the saiyan said, looming over him. He crouched down, hair pooling on the floor, muscles bunching as he took a knee, leaning forward with his hands braced against the wall. Puar was trapped, unable to escape as Radditz hunched closer and closer in, until their faces almost touched. “Mine.”

Puar bared his bloody teeth, and Radditz leaned in and kissed him, hard. The saiyan came away with a punctured lip to match his shoulder. He grinned and swiped his tongue over the wound, briefly cleaning it of blood before it welled up again. “Get away from me,” Puar hissed, drawing his knees up tighter. He put his hands on Radditz's chest and shoved for all he was worth, to no avail. A pop and his hands changed, fingers morphing into talons. Radditz snarled.

“Make me.”

“Get off of him!” Tien screamed as he slammed hard into Radditz, driving with his shoulder to knock the saiyan off balance, and they tumbled across the floor together, kicking and punching at each other. Puar scrambled to his feet and back a few steps, watching as the two warriors rolled. He took a step forward, hesitated as their positions shifted, then gathered his courage when Radditz gained the upper hand once more. Puar leapt in, grabbed Radditz's tail with both hands, and yanked for all he was worth.

The saiyan roared as pain shot through his entire body, singing along his spine and down through each and every nerve. It was an amazing sight, visible in its cruelty, as Puar watched the muscle spasms spread outward from the base of his lover's tail, to the tips of his fingers and toes. Tien scrambled out from beneath the big man, panting as he scooted backward along the floor, and Puar dropped the furred appendage the second his friend was away.

“R...Radditz?” He took a tentative step toward the gasping, huddled form on the floor.

“DON'T TOUCH ME!” the saiyan howled. “Not you, not now.” He turned his face to the floor and Puar stood helplessly over him, not sure what to do.

“What's going on in here?” It was Bulma in the doorway, with Vegeta close behind her. She stood gaping, taking in the sight. Radditz balled on the floor, with Puar standing, completely nude, over top of him. Tien sat in the corner with a black eye and a nasty bruise spreading across his shoulder.

Puar let out a squeak and popped back into cat form, just as Nappa's bald head appeared above Vegeta's. He floated to the center of the room, as though to block Radditz from view. “Um...” he faltered, looking back over his shoulder. “Uh...”

“Is anyone seriously hurt?” Bulma made to crouch down beside Radditz but he snarled at her like a cornered dog, and she wisely rethought her decision. “Tien?” she went to him and helped him up from the floor, peering at his face and prodding at his shoulder as she did so. He was wide eyed and looked a little in shock, but to her surprise, nothing appeared broken.

“We were only fighting for a few seconds, I think.” Tien said, shaking her hands away. “I'm fine,” he added, and Bulma felt like he really meant it. “I'm doing fine.” She craned her head to look up at him, and was surprised to see the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his split lip. “Puar, are you okay?”

Puar nodded, though Bulma could see the blood on his muzzle, and wondered what injuries might be hiding beneath the fur.

“Brat.” Nappa shouldered his way past Bulma, stooped down, and grabbed Radditz by the scruff of his neck. How he found it beneath all the hair, Bulma would never know. “Come on, get up you. Get your ass back to bed, you'll be fine.” He hauled his young comrade up and let go, to leave Radditz standing on weak knees.

“You don't know what it's like...” Radditz ground out, and Nappa scoffed and cuffed him on the back of the head.

“Shut up brat, you don't know anything. How do you think Vegeta and I trained the sensation out of our tails? How many pulls do you think it takes, before the pain doesn't paralyze you anymore? How many after that till you can think straight, till you can move and bear it?”

“Leave me alone, old man. I was alone all that time, you and Vegeta were playing at pulling each other's tails.” Radditz's voice was bitter and sour as he stalked off, nearly bowling Bulma over in his haste. Puar made to follow him, but Nappa caught the little cat's blue tail in his fist and pulled him back, though far more gently than Puar had been with Radditz.

“He'll get over it, scruffball, but you'd better leave him to lick his wounds tonight.”

“Oh, I thought...”

“Seriously,” Nappa shrugged, “it's your life but you're small and breakable. He's big and pissed.”

“He's probably right, Puar,” Bulma said, coming up behind the floating cat to scratch behind his right ear. “I see your pillow is out here, but I'll go and grab you an extra blanket and maybe you can camp out here.”

“Go sleep in my bed,” Tien was cracking his knuckles, “I won't be using it tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“I'm going to go and train. I feel...” He bounced on the balls of his feet and stretched his arms out in front of him, easing his shoulder muscles into readiness. “I feel ready.”

“Okay...well, sorry,” Puar said clutching his paws together in front of his belly in embarrassment. “I don't know what came over him.”

“It's not your action to apologize for.” Tien reached out and ruffled the cat's fur. “But thanks anyway. Thanks for being around.” And with that, he was out the door and down the hall, on his way to the training decks below.

“What's gotten into him?” Nappa demanded as Tien was leaving, but nobody really bothered to answer him. Bulma smiled to herself and Vegeta didn't say anything to anyone as he took her arm and steered her back toward their room. He'd made sure there was no major meltdown, he considered his duties done. They emerged into the hall to see Krillin, Gohan, and Dende standing in small conference, but Goku was, surprisingly, absent from the hubbub.

“Everything okay?” Gohan asked, and it was obvious from their tense postures that they'd watched Radditz storm out. Nappa passed by with an uninformative grunt, leaving someone else to answer as he went back to bed.

“For now,” Bulma replied, with a shrug. She was exhausted and it showed, and as callous as it seemed, she was glad that the mess had more or less resolved for the moment. “I'm not one hundred percent sure I understand what just happened, but whatever it was, it's done for the night.” She drew her robe a little more tightly around herself and cinched the belt close. “Anyway, it's late. We're going back to bed.” Bulma reached out and patted Dende's smooth head. “You boys should do the same. You've got early training.” She winked at Gohan and cocked her head toward Vegeta, who was waiting impatiently behind her. “G'night, guys.”

Dende and Gohan turned back into their room as Bulma and Vegeta moved along down the hallway, but Krillin waited a moment before heading into the living room. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Puar float fretfully about the room, trying to straighten the mess that had been made.

“Puar,” Krillin said, and the cat seemed to jump a little higher in the air. He whipped around, the television remote clutched in his paws. He dropped in his surprise and it clattered to the floor, the back panel popping off. Puar swooped quickly to grab, it, chasing one battery as it rolled across the floor, but his shaking paws were not nimble enough to put it properly back together. “Here, I'll do it.” Krillin reached out and took the handful of parts, slowly piecing them back together to allow the cat a bit of time to collect himself.

“Thanks.”

“Were you going to go sleep in Tien's bed?” Krillin asked, and Puar shook his head violently, so hard that his whole body wiggled in the air.

“No, no, no, I can't. Roll around in Tien's sheets all night? Radditz would go ballistic...Again.”

“Ooh, good point.” Krillin rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly tired again at the mention of bed. “You could bunk with me, if you want.”

“I'll just curl up on the couch,” Puar said, and laughed at Krillin's grimace. “I'm a cat, Krillin, I've slept in much worse places with complete comfort. Go to bed, you look exhausted.”

“Yeah, yeah. You sure you're going to be okay?” Krillin asked, feeling uncomfortable as he watched Puar float over the couch and settle into a little ball on top of his pillow.

“I'll be fine,” the cat insisted, his little blue paws kneading gently at the cushion beneath him.

“Puar? I, uh,” Krillin crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the floor. He clenched his teeth and forced a loud breath from his nostrils. “I want you to be careful, Puar. I mean, I,” he stammered, “I know I'm not as strong as him, but if he doesn't treat you right…well, I'll pound his face in!”

Krillin spun away then, too embarrassed to stick around for Puar's response, and fled to his room. Piccolo's bunk was empty, as usual, but the he was there, meditating in the corner on the floor, apparently unbothered by the beside light that Krillin had turned on upon wakening to Radditz's power surge. Krillin tiptoed back to his bed, trying not to disturb his roommate more than he already had, but then Krillin heard him shift, and he knew that Piccolo was not as deep in concentration as he appeared to be. There was no way he could not have noticed what had been going on just down the hallway in the common room.

“You know,” Krillin blurted before he could stop himself, “you could have come to help.”

“It was none of my concern.” Piccolo did not move as he spoke, nor did he bother to look at Krillin. He frowned, deep lines creasing between his eyebrows and around the corners of his mouth, and tried to shut out the world again.

“We're all each other's concern, you know,” Krillin snapped, full of momentary courage that he'd probably regret later. Piccolo cracked one eye and they glared at each other in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

“Feh,” Piccolo scoffed, shut his eye, and went back to his meditation. Krillin, thus defeated, crawled beneath his covers and snapped out the light.

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Several decks down, Tien was surprised to hear the hum of the gravity machine in full operation. A quick flare of his senses left a smirk on his face though, and he advanced to see Goku through the porthole window in the heavy, metal door. He was doing one-armed pushups, concentrating so hard that he hadn't even noticed he had an audience. Sweat was pouring off his body, pooling beneath him and soaking into the mat beneath.

Loath to interrupt the other's training session, but eager to work off some of the sudden energy he'd built up himself, he raised a hand and banged on the door. Startled, Goku's free arm flailed, he teetered dangerously on the one holding him up, and suddenly toppled to the side.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you,” Tien apologized after the shutdown procedure completed and the door swung inward, Goku on the other side. Tien studied the other warrior, a one-time enemy, and noticed the dark rings beneath his eyes. It was unusual; he'd always thought of Goku as this happy-go-lucky kid, idealistic and hopeful in ways that Tien himself strove to emulate. The man before him looked bone-tired, teetering on the edge of something dark.

“No problem,” Goku scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He smiled, and Tien saw some of the old Goku, but it wasn't quite the same. “I just wasn't expecting anyone, that's all.” He blinked then, looking wide-eyed at the triclops in the doorway. “What happened to you?”

“Oh,” Tien reached up to touch his swollen lip, his bruised jawbone. “Misunderstanding with Radditz. It's, um, all settled,” he added, just in case Goku should feel some need to go into protective mode.

“Ooh, yikes.” Goku winced. He was no stranger to pain, but when he got into it with his friends, it was all about training. It was weird to think that Tien and Radditz had fought for real. “Here to burn off the steam?”

“Yeah,” Tien laughed, “something like that. Up for a spar?”

“Always,” Goku said, stepping back so that Tien could enter the gravity room. He closed the door and walked over to the console, pausing before he input the commands. He gestured at the darkening bruises on Tien's collarbone. “What are you okay for?”

“Superficial wounds, nothing broken.” Tien brushed off his former enemy's concern. “But if I'm being honest, I haven't been in here enough to really know what I can handle. Start us off low with a warm up and we'll go from there?” he suggested.

Goku nodded and started the machine at five times Earth's gravity, bumping it up to ten when Tien showed no signs of imminent collapse. He took the opportunity to do some more pushups, this time on one finger to account for the lesser gravity, while Tien did some stretching to loosen up his muscles. The brawl with Radditz had pumped him full of energy, but couldn't really be counted as a proper warm up.

“I should apologize to you,” Tien said after a short while. “We were never really friends but…” he paused, “But when you came, I should have been there. I was in a camp too, you know. I know what you've been through.” He faced the wall, his entire body flooded with embarrassment. Tien did not talk about feelings. “It changed you, too. I can see it on your face. And I should have been there to talk to…or something, I don't know.”

“I had Piccolo,” Goku said, and Tien finally turned, to see that the saiyan had paused mid-pushup, his body straight as an arrow, held up by only his toes and his right index finger.

“Only you could take that as a comfort.” Tien snorted. “Okay, let's do this thing.”

Goku hopped to his feet and did a few quick arm stretches as he walked to one end of the room and Tien to the other. They turned to face each other, each man dropping into his preferred battle stance. “Okay,” Goku grinned like the child he'd been the very first time they'd faced each other, “One, two, three, GO!”

The launched themselves at each other, screaming, and collided in a flurry of energy. Fists and feet flew as they thrashed together in the air, each one determined to do damage to the other. Tien scored a lucky hit, his fist catching Goku right in the mouth. It was a complete surprise to the saiyan, who'd been expecting the same listless, half-there Tien he'd sparred with so occasionally in the past months.

“Wow,” Goku panted, wiping blood from his lip as they came apart. “You're different. Intense.”

“I've been in this cocoon since they brought me here, and Radditz…as much as I'd like to punch him in the face again,” Tien slammed his right fist into his open left palm, “I owe him. I know it sounds corny, but I had this moment where I thought he was going to kill me, and then I realized how much I want to live.” He stretched his head from side to side and the cracking of joints echoed in the chamber. “And if I want to live, I might have to make sure that someone else doesn't.”

Goku swiped the back of his wrist across his forehead, wiping up sweat with the weighted fabric band he wore, and didn't say anything. He felt suddenly uncomfortable with the direction their training session had taken. He knew it, just like everyone else on Red Station, but Grandpa Gohan had taught him that life was sacred, from the smallest bug to the greatest god, and should never be taken lightly. Hunting for food was one thing, and killing in self-defense sometimes couldn't be helped, but during his time in the camps, the line had blurred. It was something he didn't like thinking about.

“Anyway, I've let myself slide long enough. It's time to train like it was the end of the world.” Tien planted his feet

“Yeah.” Goku grinned and zipped forward. That, at least, he could get behind.

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The staff in the control room were all trying to do their jobs as well, and as quietly, as possible. Their master, Lord Frieza was one wrong move away from a full-out temper tantrum, and when Frieza had temper tantrums, people ended up dead. If they were lucky, there might be something left to send home for burial, but more often than not, fate would leave a soldier as nothing more than a splatter of blood on the wall for some poor schmuck on the cleanup crew to scrub up later.

“I can't believe you still haven't caught that little saiyan runt,” King Cold's voice was deep and smooth, but for everyone on the mothership's bridge, it might have been a screeching siren. Destruction Imminent. All Personnel Evacuate Immediately. They held their positions, silently sweating as the veins in Frieza's head bulged more and more.

Those who could see the vid-screen had it worst, for they could see the bored look on King Cold's face, and the taunting smirk on Cooler's. Every once in a while, the two elder icejin would share a knowing look between them, and that was a surefire way to increase Frieza's irritation.

“Yes, little brother. I can't believe you're being outwitted by a dirty little ape, of all things! Those monkeys would still have been jabbing sticks into termite mounds, if not for our intervention.” Cooler stood behind his father's chair, but even seated the King was so large that his son's head should have been barely visible over his shoulder. Someone must have found a box for Cooler to stand on, and Frieza said as much.

“Now, now, you know I hate it when my precious boys fight,” Cold covered a yawn with one massive, black-nailed hand. “But Cooler has a point, Frieza. How is it that Vegeta and his cretinous band of trained primates are still roaming free in your territory?”

Frieza refrained from asking how his father and brother had come to know of his saiyan problem. King Cold might have gifted this part of the universe to his son to rule, but he hadn't relinquished his hold completely. Frieza knew that if he started to lose control, his father's forces would whisk in and relieve him of the pressures of his rule. He'd be sent back to his homeworld in shame, to live under daddy's thumb for a few hundred years until he'd proven himself worthy of controlling more than a piddling galaxy again.

“I have the situation under control, Father.” Frieza met his father's eyes, and purposely continued to avoid looking at Cooler's smug face. “I have agents tracking them down as we speak, and besides, no matter how he runs, Vegeta could never hope to defeat me! The mere idea is laughable!” He forced a laugh himself, and was slightly mollified to see that his father was nodding along.

“Every day that you let him run wild, more and more men defect from your forces. If you don't catch him soon, you're going to have a full scale uprising on your hands, little brother.”

“Cooler, what you have in strength, you lack in brains,” Frieza snarled, though it hurt his pride to admit aloud that his brother was stronger than him. “You say that as though it even matters. Let the fools flock to him, let them speak of hope and freedom! I do not care! I will crush every single one of them beneath my fist, and raze every planet in my empire to space dust, if I have to!”

“Caution, my son,” Cold plucked a delicate looking tart from a tray off screen and popped it whole into his mouth. “Empty space is useless space. What value is a trillion galaxies of nothing? Take cue from your big brother, his profits this quarter are nothing short of amazing. Perhaps he should take a little trip out to check into your operations, give you some tips.”

Cooler smirked again, and Frieza forced himself to swallow a gulp of wine before he trusted himself to speak again. “I have it under control,” he repeated, finally. “Cooler has his own business to attend to; I will take care of Vegeta.”

“Good. See that you do,” King Cold reached for another treat, and Frieza's screen went blank as their communication was cut off from his father's side. He grabbed his goblet and downed the contents in a single gulp, before holding it out for an attendant to fill. He sipped this glass more slowly, staring furiously at the blank screen as he swirled the expensive alcohol around and around.

“I'll bury him,” he muttered sourly, imagining his brother's smirking face. “And then father will see which of us is the better son, which of us is better suited to be his heir.” How dare they treat him like such a child! He was the ruler of a thousand planets, billions of people bowed down to him! And Cooler, with his smug, surly face, he was a worm. Frieza stared at the people around him, so tiny like ants, and the stem of his wineglass snapped in half before he even realized he was squeezing it. The glass did not penetrate his rough palms but it was irritating nonetheless. Disgusted, Frieza dropped the remnants of his goblet on the floor beside his chair. The glass shattered and the wine splattered the floor and the side of his chair, but Frieza paid it no mind. Someone else would take care of it.

Frieza stood abruptly and left the room without a word, as though the dozen officers in the control room did not even exist. They might as well have been machines, for all Frieza cared about them. They were peons, the lot of them, and below his consideration. He wanted the company of only one person right now, but that person happened to be a backstabbing son of a bitch, so he had to make do with second best.

He headed toward his private apartments, each tense step a warning to those around him. No one dared get in his way as he made his way up and up to the very highest level of his ship. His pace quickened with every second; he was eager to be away from his life, cozy in his own space. It was only there that he could forget the pressures on his shoulders and the constant need to prove his worth. He was tired and worn, and when he finally reached the elevator and found it blissfully empty, his desire to sag against the wall was beat out only by the sure knowledge that somewhere on this ship, someone was monitoring the security camera therein.

Frieza's tail flicked behind him, his nose wrinkling as the coppery tang of blood assaulted his nostrils. He stood at the entrance to his chambers, paused in the doorway for so long that the door's sensor began to beep, reminding him to get the hell out of the way so it could close. Briefly, Frieza thought about smashing the console to stop the noise, but he didn't want to deal with the hassle of having someone fix it, especially given what he was sure to find in his apartments.

Sighing, he crossed the threshold and the door whooshed shut behind him. Blissful silence.

Upon first glance, nothing appeared to be out of order. His things were all present and accounted for, immaculately clean and perfectly in place. From across the apartment, he heard the steady plink of dripping water, and wondered what state he'd find this one in.

At any given moment, there were only two people on board the ship that had the access codes to Frieza's apartment. Frieza himself, and his right hand officer. For years, more than he could actually keep track of, that had meant Zarbon. In the time since Zarbon's betrayal and escape, there'd been four. The most recent one, Hark, had been around less than a month; one of the others had not made it through even a week.

Frieza crossed the apartment, stone tile giving way to lush, thick carpet as he moved from the entryway into the living room. The carpeting stretched from wall to wall and was still so new that it sprang up like moss between Frieza's toes as he walked. It had been replaced only recently; Hark's predecessor had made rather a mess of the last one, as well as a couch that Frieza had been particularly fond of, in his self-inflicted exit from the universe. Red stains were just impossible to get out of cream upholstery.

The bathing chamber was Frieza's favourite room of any on his mothership, perhaps his favourite place in the entire universe. A ledge ran around the perimeter, with an open air shower on the wall opposite the entrance, but the center of the room stepped down in chunky gradations to a steaming, sunken pool. The walls were floor-to-ceiling vid-screens so he could just as easily conduct business as enjoy any number of pre-programmed displays. They showed a forest when he entered, lush and green, tree branches swaying gently in a breeze. No animals were visible, and the speakers were nearly silent but for the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. The steady drip of water that Frieza had heard was real; the shower had been left on and the floor drains plugged with wadded towels. The water was slowly filling up the lower steps leading into the bath. Given another hour, perhaps less, it would have flooded completely and spilled into the rest of his quarters.

Frieza did not need to turn on the scouter affixed to his temple to know that he would soon be sharing the access code to his apartments again.

Hark's body floated face-up in the center of the growing pool, the pink-tinged water lapping at his skin with the gentle current created by the shower runoff. It was dark red nearest the source, two gaping wounds where he'd slashed his forearms lengthwise from wrist to elbow. He was fully clothed, and his long, green hair floated around him like seaweed, unbound. Frieza walked around the edge of the pool and shut the shower off with the tap of a button. He stood in the puddled water, still staring at the control panel, and balled his fists at his sides. A flick of his thick tail, and the wadded, waterlogged towels hit the wall with a wet splat, before sliding down to the floor. The steady dribble of water into the pool slowed as the drains cleared up.

The reek of blood in the room was strong, but Frieza paid it no mind as he turned once more to study Hark. His face was pale, but composed and serene; he'd spent his last moments not in this bathing chamber, but in a forest pool, surrounded by nothing but the air and the trees.

Frieza stepped down one stair and his scaly, clawed feet were lost beneath the water. He took another stair and was submerged to his knees, a third reached his waist and he didn't care that he was ruining his clothes in the blood-tinged bath. He reached out to touch Hark's pale cheek, and the motion set the body spinning slowly around. The skin of his feet and hands had gone plump and wrinkly, but the rest of him had yet to bloat. The body was still warm, but Frieza could not tell if that was due to timing or the temperature of the water. It was hot, not scalding, but enough to have steamed up the entire room.

Frieza reached out and stopped the body's motion, tugging it back so that Hark's head lay in the crook of his arm. He clutched a lock of hair, thick and heavy between his fingers. It was a deep, emerald green like Zarbon's had been, yet even longer. Beyond that, the similarities were few. Zarbon's features had been fine, yet strong, while Hark's face was soft and round, cherubic. He was pale pinkish in complexion, like the filthy saiyans, but lacked their tone and muscle definition. Hark's people were stick slim telekinetics, with hardly the physical power to bruise a piece of fruit. They used their minds for everything, which was both their biggest weakness and greatest strength. No matter how physically damaged the body might have been, if the conscious was still functional, so was their fighting power. However if the mind was in some way compromised, due to sleep deprivation or drugs, the body was completely useless.

Frieza frowned down at the face below him. Hark had been particularly strong of mind; it was a surprise that he'd broken so quickly under strains that Zarbon had endured for more than a decade. Frieza stroked the hair again, plucking a dripping clump of it up and out of the water to examine it more closely. It was rougher in texture than Zarbon's, and not quite the same colour, however close. Hark had also been in the habit of wearing his hair loose, but he'd braided it for his master, and it had been enough.

Frieza backed up and sat on the first stair so that just the bottom half of his body was submerged. He pulled Hark's floating body across the water and between his parted knees. Frieza cradled the dead man in his arms and buried his face in emerald green hair, all the while thinking of someone else.

.

.

When Puar woke up, it took a moment for his fuzzy brain to remember why he was sleeping on the couch in the common room. He kneaded the pillow beneath him with his paws and rolled over to look at the clock. It was already past nine in the morning, and he was shocked to realize that no one had interrupted his sleep yet. The crew all tended to be early risers, even those with nothing to do immediately. Why, Mrs. Briefs was even missing the soap opera coming in on the Hijar Galaxy timeframe.

He breathed in, and immediately understood why.

Radditz was sitting on the far end of the couch, hands clasped between his knees. His eyes were closed and he was still as a statue. It was way past the saiyans' usual morning training time, yet he was still in his pyjama pants, shirtless, and it was plain that he hadn't been to the gravity room yet. He smelled of their bed still, and yet looked like he hadn't slept a wink. The pillowcase rustled with Puar's movement, and Radditz's eyes snapped open at the sound. He turned to look at Puar, who hunkered down into the false safety of the pillow.

“M…morning Radditz,” Puar squeaked. He realized that he was cowering and sat up a little. The previous night, for the first time ever, it had really hit home just how volatile and violent Radditz could be. He'd known the facts, of course, but it wasn't the same. Bulma had warned him that this moment would come, and Puar hadn't realized just how right she was. He'd been a desert thief and no stranger to violence, but Radditz's explosion had frightened him. The saiyan had attacked without giving anyone a chance to explain, and Puar could count on one paw the number of people on board who could defeat Radditz in a fight. He and Tien were not among that number, but rather in the ship's population of people that could be easily slaughtered before help could be counted on to arrive. They'd done admirably together, but Puar counted it pure luck that he'd been able to get a hold of Radditz's tail.

“G...good morning,” Radditz said, and Puar was quite taken aback. He'd never heard any of the saiyans use such niceties, even in direct response to a greeting of the same kind. “Did you,” Radditz gestured at the pillow, “sleep okay out here?”

“Not really,” Puar responded.

“I slept like shit. Didn't really sleep, actually.” Radditz ran a hand through his snarled and tangled hair. He'd spent most of the night pacing, and the few times he'd thought he might be tired enough to fall asleep, he'd simply tossed and turned before getting up to pace again.

“Good.” Puar said acidly, and Radditz winced a little bit. Puar wished he had some clothes handy so that he could transform into his human form without having to have this conversation in the nude. He always felt like he was at such a disadvantage in his natural form.

Radditz opened up his mouth to speak, shut it, thought a moment, and opened it again. “I wasn't going to kill him, you know,” he said, and Puar watched the ripple of his arms and sides as his muscles tensed. “But he was...he was touching you,” Radditz added when Puar said nothing, “petting you all over.” His hands clenched in his lap and he clamped his jaws shut. His tail was wrapped around his waist but Puar could see the tip of it jerking back and forth.

“Bulma pets me all the time,” Puar pointed out.

“But that's hot!” Radditz exploded, jumping up off the couch. He paced toward the television and turned back. He was careful not to come too close to his mate; he didn't think it would be appreciated after what had happened the night before. “And you're not into chicks and s'far as I know she's not into cats, so I know nothing would ever happen; it's innocent wank material, everybody wins! But I walk in to find you all cuddled up in some guy's lap, and what the hell reaction do you expect?”

“Wait, back up.” Puar put one paw out to signal Radditz to stop babbling, and put the other to his forehead. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, Radditz was sitting on the coffee table, hands between his knees again, looking forlorn. He was like a big dog, Puar thought, who'd been caught doing something bad. He was trying so hard to ingratiate himself, yet given the chance, he'd be digging through the garbage again in no time. “Did you say wank material?” Puar was incredulous. “You mean to tell me you ja...” he paused, mid word, cheeks hot beneath his fur, really wishing that they were having this conversation in their quarters. For all he knew, the entire crew could be on the other side of the wall, listening in through the open doorway. “You imagine Bulma petting me when you...err...mmph?” He made a quick, rude gesture with his paw and glanced back at the door to be sure that no one was peeking in.

“Sometimes,” Radditz admitted, shrugging, and then seemed to realize that he might be making a mistake admitting it. “Not all the time. My focus is on you, I swear. She's just a prop!” he added quickly.

“In cat form,” Puar clarified, and Radditz cocked his head, not quite sure how to read the disbelief in his partner's voice. The saiyan nodded slowly and hoped his honesty would not land him another night alone. “I...” Puar tried to speak and found that he was stumped. “I don't know whether to be disturbed or pleased by that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing's wrong with me! You're my mate in any form, haven't I said all this before?”

Puar tiptoed across the couch on four paws, and climbed into Radditz's lap. “You've said it before,” he agreed, and realized that he'd never really let it sink in. “Just pet me for a bit, okay?” he asked, grabbing one of Radditz's big hands in both paws and placing it on top of his head. “And promise me you won't pick any more fights with our friends. I would never cheat on you, never.”

“You won't let anyone else pet you?” Radditz asked, scratching Puar behind the ears.

“I'm a cat, Radditz. My friends will give me platonic pets.” His voice was firm, for all it was a high-pitched squeak. There was a part of him that was tempted to agree, especially as Radditz's legs tensed beneath him, but Puar was determined to take a cue from Bulma; he would not be ruled. “There are plenty of things you do that make me uncomfortable,” he went on, “and I will do my best to reconcile myself to them. In turn, you will do the same for me.”

Radditz growled, and Puar hopped off his lap and floated a few feet away. “I'm going to give you the day to think,” Puar said. “I'm going to sleep in our bed tonight. If you can handle this, you may join me. Otherwise,” he shrugged, “you're going to have to find a new roommate.” He turned away and began to float out of the room, but paused as a huge sigh emanated from the man behind him.

“Who the hell are you, and what did you do with Puar?” Radditz grumbled, getting up. “I don't need a whole day, you fucking ballbuster. Come on.” He plucked the cat right out of the air and plonked him down on one bare shoulder. “Come make us breakfast, and I'll tell you all about how I plan to share a bed with you tonight.”

“Why do I have to make breakfast?” Puar clung tight as Radditz made his way to the kitchen, and tried not to dig in too hard with his claws. Radditz was already sporting puncture marks on the other shoulder from the previous night.

“Because you don't like ki-fried hunks of meat, and that's about all I can cook.”

.

.

“Hey Bulma,” Chichi's voice crackled over the speaker in the lab, and Bulma turned to her comm-unit and brought up the video screen. “I think you'd better come up to the bridge.”

“Why, what's up?”

“Because the ship is telling me we're approaching our destination, and it wants to know if I'd like to switch into manual controls. I know I don't, but I thought you might.”

Bulma blinked twice as she processed Chichi's words, and looked at the date on her computer screen. “Wow,” she said. “Time sure went fast.”

“Soooo, are you on your way up then?” Though she spent a lot of time on the deck manning the radios, Chichi had terrible anxiety concerning anything to do with the ship's deeper functions. She was afraid that one push of the wrong button would cause the engines to explode or cut off all life support. Considering Roshi and Oolong's GRAV debacle, Bulma supposed her fears were not unfounded.

“Damn right, I am!” Bulma grinned and spun back to her desk, where she tapped a few quick notes into her project file before closing the program down. She wondered if she could take the time for a quick shower before heading up to take control of the ship. They'd be landing on Planet Tech-Tech in a few hours, and Bulma really didn't want to meet her brother-in-law looking like a slob.