Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What You Will ❯ What You Will: Act IV ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

 

Disclaimer: eye due knot own Dragging bawl Z ore halve maid a knee ma knee threw thee storey, pleas dew naught sault.  Ha, conquering spell check through the power of homonyms and homophones, though my grammar check has now gone on strike. 

But serious, Toriyama sensei, please don’t sue me for the use of your characters. 

Author’s note: This chapter has some more mature themes, some naughty words and references to sexual trauma and violence, and threats of torture/sexual assault.  Nothing explicit, this is still a more comedic story, but the shit is getting real for at least one act. 

Sadly the poor writing quality has not improved.  Apologies as always to Mr. Toriyama and Mr. Shakespeare.  Please forgive me.

 

 

What You Will

 

Act IV

 

It was the little things that reminded him that he wasn’t on Chikyuu anymore.  The strange pull of artificial gravity, the day being two hours longer than on his home planet…

 

“Yamcha-kun, get back into that bed!  You remember what happened yesterday when you overdid it and we had to carry you back,” the fact that the head nurse was an iridescent heptapod creature with four pairs of eyes that gave it a 360 view of its surroundings.

 

“Eunice, I was unconscious in that machine for two months.  I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”  He promised with the swagger of a no-nonsense cop that doesn’t play by the rules.  Sadly the nurse was sorely lacking in its television watching and began checking his vitals for sepsis and pushing him back to his bed.  It was a mark of how feeble he was that he couldn’t mount any kind of fight.  Maybe it wasn’t a sign of weakness to take a brief nap.

 

“You’ll sleep when your body tells you to sleep.  And my name is ZBfn7#d&rvX.”

 

“But you look like a Eunice.”  Yamcha slurred as the heptapod easily lifted him into the prepared bed.  “And I wanted to be upright for when Goku comes.”

 

The heptapod wiggled two of its legs on the right side, the indicator of ‘no’ in its culture. 

 

“It will take time for you to get back to full strength but you will need to rest and do it before you collapse.  In any event, your friend is a very important advisor to the Saiyajin no Ouji and is away on a super-secret mission.  Everyone knows that.  You’ll see him when he gets back and you are ready.”  Lifting him easily into the waiting cot, its tentacles pulled the covers over him, tucking him in.

 

“Now I know you have a lot of questions but you won’t get answers if you don’t let yourself heal.”  Just like a mothering entity, Yamcha thought, everything good will happen if you just do what I say.

 

“Sorry, Eunice.  Must be the worst patient ever.”  His eyes were feeling heavy and Yamcha wondered if it might not have stuck him with a sedative earlier. 

 

“I greased my tentacles on the off-world barrack on QI’yaH, son.  I’ve seen a Saiyajin slice off their own hand rather than get a tetanus shot.  You are a peach compared to that and my name is ZBfn7#d&rvX.”  Yeesh, and he thought Chuck Norris was tough.

 

“I don’t think my tongue will flap noise good, even you … stuck … needle … Goku.”  The heptapod rocked its back two tentacles with suction cups along the floor but the finer linguistic meaning was lost on him in the fog of sleep.

 

“Your friend Goku was perfectly calm when he got all of his shots; didn’t even say boo.  And Eunice is fine, the name of some great hero on your world no doubt.”  Yamcha nodded, though that might have been his head just falling forward.  The name of the old lady that ran a stall in the market and had eyes in the back of her head could be a hero in some circles.

 

His thoughts scrambled and reknit themselves in his sleep-addled brain, one popping to the surface before he descended into unconsciousness: when did Goku lose his fear of needles?

 

The lights were low in the room and the murmur of voices was barely audible when he awoke to the soft brush of fur against his hand.  Peeking one eye open, he looked down to see that killer bunny snuggled against his side, looking up at him with trusting black eyes.  The nurses assured him the chassidu had been his constant companion during his stay but he couldn’t help flinching when it came close to him.  Getting growled at by an attack rabbit does leave an impression.

 

Testing the waters, he lightly brushed his hand against its back and the chassidu allowed the intrusion.  Yamcha soon fell into the habit and began scratching behind its ear in the way Puar loved, only to encounter a thin collar.  Now that wasn’t there before, he realised, as his fingers traced the edge and found a tiny compartment with a rolled-up piece of paper inside.

 

His heart began to pound at the implications, the dangerous, possibly planet-shattering message that someone was sending him through means of carrier bunny.  Smoothing out the note, he read the words with surprise, his confusion deepening as he recognised the handwriting.

 

‘Hey sexy, meet me at the top level of the Budokai bleachers by mid-day – your princess.’  Against his wishes, he felt tears sting his eyes.  Dear Kami, it might have happened two months ago but the news of Bulma’s death on the ship and the fact he couldn’t protect her was like a vise grip on his chest.  Whoever sent this note had a sick sense of humour.

 

“Good morning, Yamcha.  I just need to take a few blood samples then we can walk to the med bay cafeteria.  Need to get you moving more today and get that strength back.”  A grey-skinned Occhion nurse with stunning purple eyes appeared out of nowhere and spoke to him softly.  Crushing the note in his hand, he smiled at the promise of getting out and moving more.

 

“And Usagi’s so cute with his little collar, a messenger chassidu from your secret admirer.”  Yeesh, there really are no secrets on a ward.  While he wasn’t ready to reveal why the note affected him so, he might get a few questions answered.

 

“Yes, I didn’t realise I was so popular.  Did you happen to see who put the collar on him?”

 

“No, he just appeared with it on.  He’s cute as a button but all of us value our fingers too much to try something like that.  We were hoping the note would give a hint.  What does it say?”  This one must be a doozy for a nurse to come out and ask; those observant eyes usually catch everything.

 

“Honestly it must be a joke.  It’s asking me to meet them at the Budokai bleachers but those are on Chikyuu, not here.  I doubt I can get that far in a few hours.”  Kural at first looked confused then brightened at the idea of a puzzle to solve.

 

“Not sure, might help to know what a Budokai is?”

 

“It’s a massive fighting tournament that’s held every few years to determine the greatest fighter in the world.  I’ve fought in it a few times myself.”  He thought wistfully of the tournament he always dreamed of winning back when threats were earth-bound and so was he.

 

“Your admirer must really know you.  The Royal Guardsman tournament is happening right now where the top Saiyajin fighters from various regions and planets come to compete to be attendants to the royal family.  That would be something similar, as it only happens every four years.  Any other clues as to who would have sent it?”  The Occhion was on the scent and Yamcha merely shook his head.  Sure they used his nickname for Bulma, but it’s not that unique.

 

“I’ll have to go at mid-day to find out.  They might as well have asked for me to go back to Chikyuu, I doubt Eunice will let me out for a trip like that.”  He knew the where but the how was going to be an issue.  Maybe if Kural’s determined to know more than her fellow nurses, she’d be willing to be a co-conspirator with him.

 

“Eunice might take you herself, half the staff is going to watch the fight.  It’ll be broadcast across the Empire on all stations, but there is nothing like being there live in the stadium.”

 

“I didn’t realise you enjoyed fighting so much.”  After hearing Eunice’s description of the Saiyajins, he figured the nurses would hate the amount of carnage these creatures engaged in.  He had yet to see a Saiyajin in the flesh beyond their floating forms in a tank, or glimpses of half-breed orderlies, but feeling the ki coming off them was enough to know they would pack a punch.

 

“When there is a month’s salary on the line, a girl can get into anything.  Little internal bet we have on the ward.  Today is the semi-finals and my monkey is still in the fight.  Those Westerners, you can never count them out as my grandpa used to say.  He would know too, he was constantly changing house loyalty since they tied slaves to the title, not the family.”  Yamcha felt bile rise up in his throat at that word.  Kural loved to talk about her family; genealogy and rank were a big focus within Occhion society.  The fact that that rank was based on their servitude … slavery to the Saiyajins felt anathema to him, even if slavery was officially abolished over forty years ago. 

 

With the promise of a trip to the stadium, Yamcha obeyed every request and command Eunice and the other nurses gave, conserving his strength to meet this mysterious letter writer.  He speculated on the who all through his exercises and stretches, with the most hopeful being that Goku was possibly able to hide Bulma.  Somehow he doubted it, his former flame was too adventurous to be hiding under a bed for the last two months.  The alternative, that she was found after the fact and punished, or worse, sent to be some concubine, was a scenario too horrid to contemplate.

 

His stomach was in knots by the time the small cadre of med-bay staff loaded into the monorail for the stadium.  He could barely take in the sprawling city that surrounded the palace complex, each station along the way filling up with more aliens, mostly Occhions but dozens of different shapes and colours were featured, though no Saiyajins ever entered a car.  The ride only took twenty minutes before the train stopped and he was before a massive open-roofed structure

 

Similar to a coliseum on Chikyuu, the walls towered a hundred metres in the air, the massive support pillars shaped to look like giant snarling apes, similar to Goku’s were-monkey form at the full moon.  More overwhelming was the sound, the collective roar of tens of thousands of beings deafening to the ears. 

 

Their small group was quickly swallowed up by the surging crowd and he let the wave carry him through the hallways, the carvings depicting a great battle scene of ages past, no doubt the genocide of a poor, unfortunate planet.  He almost felt sorry for the beings who had their end carved into stone for all eternity until he caught sight of the horned heads and lizard-like tails. 

 

Shifting to the side as the crowd pushed through the tunnel, he took in the sight of the giant stadium and the creatures who built it.  Used to seeing such vibrant and varied alien species, the Saiyajins were nearly human looking, but for the spiky hair, muscular builds, and … tails!  A thought formed in Yamcha’s head but he quickly dismissed it.  Best to find out the solution to the note writer’s identity and start from there. 

 

A cursory glance around the stands made him slump in despair.  The place was massive and filled to the brim with spectators; finding one person really would be a needle in a haystack.  At least he didn’t have to hide any ki abilities, as most Saiyajins and even the higher-powered non-Saiyajins flew to their seats.  Raising himself in the air, Yamcha flew straight up, the roar growing to a dull rumble as he stared down at the arena.  Even flaring out his ki-sense wouldn’t do him any good, the Saiyajins’ collective ki would dampen down even Goku’s distinctive signature.  The sun was near its zenith, how was he going to find … ? 

 

A bright glare of light landed on his eyes, blinding him for a moment.  Flying to the side, the light followed him … the light followed.  Shading his eyes, he looked at the top level of the bleachers for a glare, and there it was.  At the very top, in one of the corners with the worst visibility in the arena, he could see a light flashing and moving.  Yamcha landed a few feet away from a young man pocketing what looked like a compact mirror. 

 

The spiky blue-black hair could almost make him look Saiyajin but the build was too slim, the ki signature was nigh on non-existent and the eyes … dear Kami, the eyes were Bulma’s.  Not waiting for formal introductions, Yamcha attacked, grabbing the boy by his shirt front and pushing him into a deserted corner.

 

“You little sneak, who are you?  What kind of game are you playing?  Speak quickly before I beat the answer out of you.”

 

“Yamcha, you’re hurting me.”  Bulma’s voice spoke out of the young boy’s mouth and he released his grip.  What … what was going on?

 

The boy coughed, again with Bulma’s voice, and Yamcha helped him … her up.  The boy was light as a feather, his build even slighter than the image before him.  Looking from side to side to confirm they were alone, those eyes that burned into his soul started up at him and the masculine form winked out of existence, revealing ….

 

“Bulma, it’s you.  You’re alive.”  Yamcha cried out with joy and hugged his former girlfriend tight, his heart swelling when she returned his fierce hug and he felt two hot tears splash on his neck.

 

“You have no idea how relieved I am to see you, Bulma.  Dear Kami, the nurses told me only Goku and I had survived and that he was an assistant to the monkey Prince.  Where is Goku?  Is Krillin okay?  How did I get here?”  Bulma pulled away from him and her once shining face dulled with misery. 

 

“Bulma, what happened while I was in that tank?” 

 

“Yamcha, Goku and Krillin are gone.  They didn’t make it when the Arion was attacked.  I hit the hyper-drive and the sh … ship broke apart.  The shielding by the cock-pit was all that kept us alive.  You received a brain injury in the explosion and I … I could only do the crudest bandaging to help you when we finally stopped in Saiyajin space.  We were picked up and brought to Vegetasei where the King made me Prince Vegeta’s assistant and allowed you to be put in a tank.  Oh Kami, Yamcha, I was so worried I was never going to see you again.” 

 

He hardly had time to take it in before my questions bubbled up in his mind.  His grief, once lifted at the sight of Bulma, crashed down on him twofold at the news of Goku and Krillin’s deaths.  Needing to hold on to something real and alive in the revelation of such needless loss, Yamcha hugged Bulma again.  This time the tears splashing on his neck were his own.  He felt Bulma’s slight hand rub his back in a soothing manner and he tried to take in her smell over the odd scents of her strange clothes.

 

“Bulma, why the subterfuge with that silly love note?  And why does everyone keep saying Goku is alive and serving the Prince?”

 

“I didn’t know how to reveal the truth to you in the med-bay. That place is full of eyes and a lot are trained on you, lover boy.  At least here no one is going to mark two non-Saiyajins and everyone’s eyes will be on the arena, not us.  The form you originally saw is the only one anyone on Vegetasei knows I have.  Yamcha, I’m Goku.”  The image of the boy appeared around her again and he nearly laughed at the ridiculous reality.  His too clever girlfriend had fooled the Saiyajins, hiding from Freeza’s men in the one place they would never attempt to look.  Oh no, Freeza.

 

“Bulma, is Chikyuu … is it still there?”

 

“Yes,” she looked relieved, brushing her tears away before she could continue.  “I’m not sure how but Freeza’s attention has been detained.  To help my mission, Papa even sent out decoy Briefs heiresses to help confuse Freeza’s spies.  Thankfully one of them caught the Saiyajins’ attention and I was part of the party that met them.  Oh Yamcha, I have a plan to get both of us off the planet and save Chikyuu.  It’s a bit convoluted but I convinced the Saiyajins that the decoy knows where the real heiress is and she/me will trade her technological know-how for protection for Chikyuu but Goku, also me, needs to meet with her/me first.”  She continued to give him all of the details, filling in context and his potential role as she went.  Typical of his over prepared former girlfriend, she even had tech and homework for him as he looked over a second projector, along with a holographic map of the spaceport and a similar one of the space station.  Though he was happy to hear that Master Roshi was safe, it took a few minutes for his brain to make sense of the plan.  Even through the digital disguise, the pride in her own cleverness shone through.  He wondered how clever the Saiyajins would find it, learning that they had the heiress in their clutches the whole time and she fooled them.

 

“Are you sure this plan is safe?  And do you really want to join with the Saiyajins, Bulma?” 

 

“No plan is foolproof but this one is the best circumstance has given me.  And yes, I think the Saiyajins are our best hope against Freeza.  They are strong enough to help, hate the Colds more than we do, and need our technology.  What could possibly go wrong?”  Bulma had turned from him at the end, her voice taking on that ‘don’t question my genius’ tone which was disconcerting on a young man’s face.  The world outside their conversation reasserted itself as the roars of the crowd became deafening. 

 

The second semi-final match, the one with Kural’s Westerner, was about to start, and the jumbo screens throughout the stadium flashed to the royal box as the Saiyajin Prince gave the nod to begin.  All eyes shifted to the two combatants in the centre of the arena, the pair sizing up their opponent before launching in with a flurry of kicks and punches almost faster than his eyes could take in.  And they still hadn’t started to use their ki, Yamcha realised.  How monstrously strong are these Saiyajins?  And would their treatment of the far weaker Chikyuu-jins be any more humane than Freeza?

 

“And how do they treat those they view as inferior?  Kami, they had slaves until forty years ago.  Look at this stadium, Bulma.  The servant caste system is alive and well.  You can’t think they will treat Chikyuu any differently?  How do they treat their vassal worlds?  Who will rule over us, some sadistic Saiyajin who will expect us to kneel and bow before him?”

 

“What other alternative do we have?  You act as if the perfect solution will just fall from the sky and life will go on as it was before.  Life as we knew it is over and we can’t go back; we can only go forward.  No matter how bad fealty to the Saiyajins seems, the other option is worse; there is no third way.”  Her words ended like a death knoll and Yamcha took in her tense back and clenched fists.  Two months she had been on this planet, hiding her true self with the weight of everything, her possible discovery, Chikyuu’s fate, his injuries, all of it on her shoulders.  Maybe she hoped he would agree with her, congratulate her on her brilliance rather than bring up the fears that plagued her in making this decision.

 

Stepping towards her, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her from behind, giving her what succour he could.  He felt her relax into his embrace, and he rubbed his cheek against hers, feeling the moisture from her tears. Typical Bulma, she was likely not taking care of herself again, the need to save the world making her run herself ragged. 

 

“You’re wrong about one thing, Yamcha.  They have been kind to me.  I’m an ‘inferior alien’ to them, someone who had no pull or hold to demand anything, but they haven’t hurt me and even allowed me to prove myself.  They are loyal and honourable, two traits that Freeza and his forces can’t claim. 

“You look out on this stadium and see the divisions, I see integration.  Slowly and imperfectly, yes, but you can’t expect an entrenched warrior culture with a power-based hierarchy to change overnight, or even over fifty years.  Heck, you likely came in on the train.  Why would Saiyajins even think to build a transportation system like that when they can fly?”

 

“I take your point, Princess.”  He felt the heat of her blush at the sound of her pet moniker and he followed her gaze.  While all the stadium was focused on the match, Bulma only had eyes for the royal box.

 

“The med-bay staff mentioned you work very closely with the monkey Prince, even saved his life once.  He must be something to win your respect to the point you would be willing to risk your life to help him.”  The jumbo screens flashed again to the flame-haired warrior, his eyes cold and intelligent as he declared Westerner Daikon the victor and into the final round.  She’s truly moved on, he realised with a slight twist in his gut as he felt the change in her breathing and the fluttering in her chest. 

 

“Does he realise you’re in love with him?”

 

“He doesn’t even know I exist.”  If he weren’t right next to her, he would have missed her whispered reply.    

 

“Maybe you could negotiate an arranged marriage as part of the contract?” He offered teasingly only to find Bulma turning in his arms to hide her silent tears.  Surprised at the change, he held her tight and let her cry out her unrequited love.  A part of him wondered if, in the deepest part of her heart, she wanted to ask for his hand as part of the treaty.  From the looks of the haughty Prince, he would likely react the same way Bulma did when it came up for her. 

 

“Is it really so far-fetched?  Treaties were often sealed with marriages on Chikyuu, both problems would be solved … .”

 

“And you’d finally have that Prince Charming you’ve always wished for.  Do you think he’ll see you as his true love, or the woman he was contractually obligated to wed?  What if he’s cruel to you, Bulma, or just loses interest?  You will be tied to him with the fate of Chikyuu hanging in the balance.”  Burying her head into his chest again, Yamcha rubbed her back as Bulma just hugged him, no doubt trying to work through the problem like it was a matter of engineering or logistics.  He held back a chuckle at the thought; her need to manage and run everything was part of the reason he wanted space in their relationship.

 

“What’s so funny?”  He found her staring up at him with a wounded look on her digitally manipulated face.  The disconnect of the image from the reality was disconcerting and he realised it might be better to redirect her attention toward their escape.

 

“Just wondering how your Prince will take it when you decide his social calendar for the both of you?  You are his secretary now, it wouldn’t be that much of a jump.”  The words seemed to jolt her out of whatever funk she was slowly miring herself in as her eyes snapped with anger.  Hoping to redirect to his earlier thought, he quickly switched topics.

 

“Before you start choosing names for your future children, maybe we should try to at least get to step one of your plan, escaping and making contact as yourself.”  Just as he expected, given a plan unencumbered by emotions and her brain went to town.  Already she was asking about the limits of his movements in med bay, security protocols, and his own health level.  When he gave her the good news that he was well on the mend according to the med staff, she looked vaguely panicked. 

 

“Can you slow your recovery for a few days?  As soon as you are healthy enough, you’ll be presented to Vegeta for questioning and potentially reassignment.  Whatever he decides, there will be twice as much scrutiny on our movements and double the eyes potentially watching.  I’m working on securing our escape pods and reaching out to the human group.  Barring anything unforeseen, I should have everything ready within the week.  Can you fake it until you get my signal?” 

 

“My acting skills aren’t great but I’ll do my best.  Message by chassidu again?”

 

“Yes, and if you can, take Usagi with you.  That rabbit is loyal to a fault, it would be a shame to leave it behind.  I promise to visit tomorrow with an update. And Yamcha.”

 

“Yes, Bulma?”

 

“I’m so glad you’re here with me.”  She hugged him once more and, standing on her tiptoes, brushed her lips against his cheek.  The physical part of their relationship was truly over and though he mourned the loss, his heart swelled at her gesture.  He was still her rock.

~*~*~*~

Miana surveyed her domain with a dissecting eye.  Her role as a concubine was to anticipate the desires of those sent to her and prepare to meet them; as the head of the harem, it was to ensure the well-being of her charges.  It was on days like today that those roles came into conflict and she hoped she had prepared well enough.  The usual garden of delights was substituted for neatly arranged couches and trays of food for the girls to present.  Sniffing the air, she could only detect the flowery smell of Sativus.  Down the hallway, she could hear the growing sound of footsteps and bellowing male voices, and unbidden she could taste the metallic tinge of panic in the back of her throat.

 

“Hail the conquering hero, Daikon, the newest member of the Royal Guards.”  Nappa’s rusty bass shouted out as the large door was pushed open and the entire royal Guardsman corps, now thirteen with their newest member, strode into the room.  She had forgotten how large Saiyajin males could be when there were so many and how intimidating when their blood was up after a battle.

 

“Welcome Commander and to Daikon, the newest protector of the Royal house.”  She spoke the words in her usual confident tone and the girls all followed suit, ever obedient.  Some whispered and giggled behind their hands as they took in the handsome group, hoping they may be chosen. 

 

“In recognition of your triumph, accept this gift of a night in the harem for you and your new comrades.  We are here for your pleasure.”  She continued, hoping the word gift would come through loud and clear.  A deep voice near the back cleared their throat and the group bowed to her before allowing the women to lead them to their couches.  About to start the evening, she found the group contained an unexpected addition, a shorter male with a flame-like mane.  At the sight of her old student, Miana dropped to her knee, unsure what to make of the young Prince’s presence.

 

“Ouji-sama, I did not know you would be in attendance this evening.  It will take but a moment to get another couch ready.”  Under her lashes she watched as he walked next to her, his tail unwinding from around his waist and lightly brushing against her chin.  Smiling at the affectionate gesture, she rose to her feet and looked into Vegeta’s inscrutable eyes. 

 

“Do not bother yourself.  Nothing would spoil the atmosphere like attendants moving furniture around.  I will share your seat.”  She inclined her head and led him to the couch off to the side where she could supervise.  With a quick clap, a dozen girls entered baring trays of goblets and flagons of wine and ushtey bea.  At the sight of the liquor, the previously silent Saiyajins began to talk and laugh out, the ‘atmosphere’, as Vegeta termed it, putting them at their ease.  With a second clap, the attendants brought out the mounds of food, including several roasted cho-deer still on the spit.

 

With a nod, the courtesans walked among the men, filling goblets, presenting food, or just speaking to the warriors.  She felt the tension drain from her frame as she watched several Saiyajins offer food or wine from their own plates to select courtesans, a gesture to win the regard of a possible bedmate later in the night. Maybe it was Vegeta’s presence or her subtle warning but as she heard the Northern members of the guard start to sing an old battle hymn, she knew the night would not descend into violence.

 

At the thought of the Prince, she flashed a glance at him, as she had several times throughout the evening.  While he partook in the wine and food, and laughed at the jokes, he took nothing but a passing interest in the women that often passed by his couch.  A quick glance, a subtle sniff, and he would take whatever item they would offer and wave them on their way.  Even among his closest companions, he would not let himself relax or take the not so subtle hints that all of the courtesans were making.

 

“Are you not enjoying yourself, Ouji-sama?  Most of the concubines are out here tonight but if there is something else that you would desire, you have only to ask it.”  He seemed to start at the suggestion before the unreadable mask covered his face again.  Though huge amounts of alcohol had been consumed, the room was peaceful, as peaceful as it could be with Saiyajin males.  Most had a woman or two on his couch or in his arms, several beginning to engage in light groping.  Those still chatting were laughing as the songs of battle had turned to space ditties about drunken Elamites and a washtub.

 

“I desire some privacy, Miana, and your leave.”  Nodding her assent, she gasped in shock as Vegeta traced the shell of her ear before giving her an open-mouthed kiss.  His tongue swirled the edges of her open lips, teasing her and she didn’t know whether to swoon or laugh.  Even after all these years, he still remembered his first lessons about kissing.

 

The pair pulled away and the whole of the Royal guard hooted at the sight of their Prince enjoying a woman, taking her as his choice.  Blushing purple at being the centre of attention, she led him to the back of the room, through the tapestries dividing the space and into her own chambers.  She sensed Vegeta’s presence behind her, the electric sense of a powerful male outside of her control causing shivers of anticipation and wariness to lick up her spine.  Turning to the Prince she had taught to be a man, she reached for the straps of her gown, feeling duty-bound to fulfill his request.  At the gesture, Vegeta shook his head, even as she noticed his growing interest.

 

“Though you are still a very desirable woman, I needed an excuse to leave.  As you know, I was never a voyeur and wasn’t interested in watching my men rut.”  He sniffed the air then came up to her and sniffed her hair before blinking his confusion.

 

“You mentioned that not all of the women were out tonight.  The missing ones, are they new to the harem?”

 

“Yes, two new and very very young, not ready for an orgy.  Both Felian, one pure white, the other green.  They have not been prepped with Sativus but that would be to your preference as I remember.  Was that why you passed on all of the others?”  An annoyed grunt greeted her question and she sighed at the enigma that was her former student.

 

“If you will not engage in sensual pursuits, how about cerebral?  I have a Shueisha set, if I can indulge you, Ouji-sama.”  Smirking his agreement, she disappeared to find her set and smiled maternally as she came back to a low table set up with a pillow for her comfort.  The Prince was dismissing one of her attendants who had brought them a flagon of wine, two goblets, and a plate of food.  Silently the pair settled themselves and assembled the set; Vegeta, against his custom, taking the starting position.

 

“This is a change.  You always prefer to observe and react to an opponent.”  Vegeta merely moved a right flank guard and took a sip of wine.  The tacit game continued for three more plays, Miana trying to work out his strategy on two fronts.

 

“You seemed to be looking for something particular tonight with the women. Dare I hope that one of the members of the harem has taken your interest, Vegeta-sama?”  He hardly blinked at the question as he engaged a light ki field above the pieces, allowing play in the third dimension.  She didn’t know whether to be flattered or nervous, the Prince didn’t play the full version with anyone other than the King.  Reassessing the board, she tentatively brought her left commander above her ground defences.  Like the skilled tactician he was, Vegeta moved his left guard into a pincer move to threaten her right Minister. 

 

“Is there a noblewoman or a commoner that has caught your eye?  You are a man in your prime and far too talented to go celibate.”  Like a typical male, he smirked at the stroke to his ego, likely assuming it was just a ploy to distract him from the game.  Deciding the time for caution was over, she added her right commander above the board.

 

“How is Goku?”  With that question, the Saiyajin Prince frowned and his supreme concentration appeared to slip.

 

“Why?  Has that little shit been back or shown any special interest in any of the harem girls?”  Ahh, now that hit a mark.  Waiting for Vegeta to make his move, Miana pressed her advantage in the other arena.

 

“No, I have not seen him nor has he reached out to any of the women, as far as I am aware.  You can’t fault me for being curious about an alien who has won your regard.  Especially one that has done so with their wits alone; sweet boy but he has no fighting power to speak of.”

 

“You’ve never been in an argument with him.”  She couldn’t hold back the smirk at his comment, remembering the young woman who revealed herself in this very room.  Thinking back to her exchange with Bulma, Miana decided to test the waters.  Her right Minister was spared for the time being as Vegeta moved his on-the-board guards to counter her in-flight commanders.  She moved her guard to begin an assault on his King, holding nothing back.

 

“In truth, he was very embarrassed and I think the girls were a bit too enthusiastic for him.  I sent him to rest back here as it happens and we did chat a little, mostly about his home world.  Professional curiosity, I asked him about women on his planet and what they looked like.  He told me of a beautiful girl he knew, blue-eyed and blue-haired with skin like cream.”  The pieces above the board vibrated and Miana watched the subtle shifts in Vegeta’s facial features.

 

“Far-ven.”  The word was barely a whisper and while its meaning was a mystery to her, the word caused the lightest blush to colour Vegeta’s cheeks.  As if to hide the slip, the Prince hardened like a stone.  He positioned a third piece above the board, the formation closing in on her Queen and ministers.

 

“Your control truly is remarkable, Miana.  I only caught the barest hint of panic on your scent, though your forethought to clear that Schin-seng smell was a help.  Men with blood lust don’t need anything to help them.”  While she knew part of the remark was to put her off her game, he was attempting to ask her if she was okay.  He remembered her story, the one she told him the first time he baulked at needing lessons in intimacy.  It was the cause of the shadow that was behind her eyes almost every time she had taken a partner. 

 

“I couldn’t be sure it would work so my newest charges were spared.  Harvana and Threse don’t need to have those kinds of memories.  The ushtey bea also contained a sedative, mild but enough to keep the men from violence.  I would have kept it from being served all together but it is tradition and Commander Nappa insisted.” 

 

“Nappa is likely one of the last who still remembers how this evening used to go.  In my grandfather’s time, the victorious warrior would be painted in the blood of his dead opponent and given a dozen women to crown his triumph.  Any that survived his attentions were finished off by the rest of the guard.  Keeping the ushtey bea is a small price to discard most of the rest.”  Bile burned at the back of her throat at the description; may the ushtey bea be all that remains of the old time.

 

“And do I have you to thank for the calmness tonight when they entered, Ouji-sama?”  The question was honest, even as she hoped to lull him into a false sense of security on the board.  Four more moves and she would spring her attack, she thought as she shifted her left Minister to threaten his above board formation.

 

“Maybe a little.  The fact that this is a gift and not a reward likely helped.  You forget that most of the guards were born after we became an Empire.  Some like Radditz were part of the off-world missions, some are the sons of vassal world governors.  Non-Saiyajins are no longer things to them.”  Her smile at those words was bittersweet; the change she so wished to see came too late for her.

 

The next pair of moves progressed in silence, Vegeta mounting a defence against her aerial pieces while she came one step closer to her attack.  While her opponent was focused like a hawk on the board, Miana felt her earlier tension dissolve.  She filled her goblet and ate a morsel of food, the first thing she could stomach all day.

 

“Those questions earlier about my mating, professional curiosity or hoping to add to the palace gossip network?”  Vegeta refilled his goblet and joined her in tasting the slices of cho-deer. 

 

“Personal curiosity.  I trained you in the arts of lovemaking, it would be a shame for them to go to waste and you to get rusty.”  He huffed at the very suggestion of his skills growing dull, even as he continued to stare at the board.  A brilliant strategist, did he see the trap she was meticulously setting up?

 

“I prefer to think of it as a form of combat, with various methods to engage a worthy opponent.”  Of course, he would make everything a type of warfare.  As much as she wished the Saiyajins to move past their nature, some aspects were bred in the bone.

 

“And your worthy opponent?  Anyone in particular or will you wait until you are closer to taking the crown?”  His eyebrow quirked at her question, likely annoyed at her too-familiar approach.

 

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, my Prince.  A beautiful, loyal, intelligent mate can advise you, challenge you, and help bear your burdens, along with giving you satisfaction in the bed chamber.  You will make a good King, Vegeta-sama, but with the right Queen, you could be greater than your father.”  And you deserve to know the happiness of love, she thought, knowing she could never speak those words aloud, even with the close relationship between them.

 

“Yes, and I saw how my father weakened at the death of my mother, half of him gone with her passing.  In time I will take a mate to produce an heir, nothing more.  Beyond that, I will bear the burden alone.  I will succeed through strength: physical, political, and mental.  I will not make my father’s mistake.”  A lump formed in her throat at those words spoken with such intensity.  He was a young boy when his mother died and though he would never cry at her passing, she could see the loss like a shadow behind his eyes. 

 

“The throne makes a cold bed, Ouji-sama.”  She replied, hoping he would find comfort, even if he couldn’t allow himself to think of a true life mate.

 

“I will just need to find a worthy opponent.”  Her eyes on the board, Miana moved her Queen into position behind her left General.  Thinking back to the beautiful Chikyuu-jin girl, she wished circumstances could have been different.  She could have made him more than a worthy opponent if her heart was not already lost to the Prince.

 

“Yield.”  She said, acknowledging that she had his King surrounded and was one move from taking her victory.

 

“No Miana.  Death.”  Vegeta replied as he switched his King with his Prince, moving the vital piece to safety while threatening her own King through the gap she had left in her defence, the rest of his pieces nullifying any counter move she could make.  Seeing no solution, she set her King on its side and accepted defeat.  The aerial pieces lowered to the board, indicating their game of wits was at an end.  Taking a leg that somehow survived the earlier feast, Vegeta quickly cleaned it to the bone with a minimum amount of grease on his chin.

 

“You have improved since the last time we played.”  He commented when she returned from putting the set away. 

 

“Celtuce, one of my attendants, enjoys the game.  As the members of the royal house rarely use our services, we need to keep our time occupied.”  Vegeta quirked his eyebrow at that statement and she wondered if he could smell the lie on her.  Only his father, Cawliefe, and Malanga had such an attuned sense of smell. 

 

“Fascinating.  I was going to comment that you would have easily beaten me if my father hadn’t used the same tactic during our last match a month before he departed.  I remembered the order precisely so I could work out a strategy to counter it.”  He drained his goblet and placed the empty vessel on the table before sweeping to his feet in a fluid motion.

 

“Are you a worthy opponent, Miana?”  Again she blushed as she remembered their conversation earlier.  It felt strange to speak of the father to the son in this way.

 

“I … I don’t know.”  She answered truthfully, unsure how deep it went on the King’s side.  Even with all of the nights to consider her feelings, she still couldn’t give a name to what it was on her own.

 

“I applaud you both for your discretion, not even the cleaners were aware of his visits.  Can I assume there is another exit than the door?”  He motioned back to the public room and the sounds of sex grew ever louder.  She walked over to the far wall and parted the tapestry to reveal a hidden door almost blended into the solid grey stone wall.  A push on an imperfection in the wall caused the door to swing open.  The hallway beyond was pitch black, with no sign of light at the end.

 

“It leads out to the grotto in the garden.”  A small flicker of ki sparked to life at the tip of his finger as he walked into the rough-hewn tunnel, the stones slick and uneven.

 

“Vegeta, did your father tell you … to come tonight?” 

 

“There was a note in his last communique mentioning it would be a sign of camaraderie and benevolence to watch over the festivities in the harem after the Royal Guardsman tournament.  I doubt he would think so highly of Nappa.”  Within a few moments he was beyond her sight and she soon reset the latch on the swinging stone and adjusted the tapestry.  The shouts and moans of pleasure, both male and female, grew to a crescendo and she relaxed.  There would be no nightmares tonight.

 

~*~*~*~

 

UPDATE: Bounty on fugitive 6547 – AKA: Bardock.  Species: Saiyajin.  Height: 1.85 sn. Weight: 175 gk.  Power rating: 8500 ₻.  History: former purge captain.  Special abilities: precognitive perception.  Last reported sighting: caught on surveillance camera attacking fueling/munitions station #755 1 parsec into Tsirujin space from Eastern border area – 12 standard days ago (3728.09.14).  Video clip updated to file.  Bounty is 2.2 million credits.

 

New Bounty: fugitive 27396 – AKA: Kakarott, AKA: Goku.  Species: Saiyajin.  Height: 1.85 sn.  Weight: ~ 145 gk.  Power rating: > 9000 ₻.  History: unknown.  Special abilities: unknown.  First reported sighting: caught on surveillance camera attacking fueling/munitions station #755 1 parsec into Tsirujin space from Eastern border area – 12 standard days ago (3728.09.14).  Picture clip uploaded.  Video clip uploaded.  Bounty is 600,000 credits.

 

New Bounty: fugitive 27405 – AKA: Q-ball.  Species: unknown.  Height: 1.53 sn.  Weight: ~ 45 gk.  Power rating: 1200 ₻.  History: unknown.  Special abilities: unknown.  First reported sighting: caught on surveillance camera attacking fueling/munitions station #755 1 parsec into Tsirujin space from Eastern border area – 12 standard days ago (3728.09.14).  Picture clip uploaded.  Video clip uploaded.  Bounty is 100,000 credits.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Message to Capsule Corporate Suite, Bryges Space Station: Plan all set.  Looking to arrive in three days (3728.09.29), liking after 1400.  Have booked previous meeting spot under CC name.  Sorry about the bill.  Bring full group and ship ready for transport, be prepared to leave at end of meeting.  Will discuss when we arrive.  Reply ASAP to ensure message received on frequency 88262.

 

Message from Bryges Space Station: Received.  Looking forward to seeing you again, Goku. CCM.

 

~*~*~*~

 

An acrid smell of ammonium hit the back of her nose and Bulma coughed awake, stretching as far as the straps of the pod would allow.  The air cleared but the burning sensation remained in her nose and throat and she wished she had had enough forethought to include water in the pods. 

 

“You can’t think of everything, Bulma girl.”  In truth her plan was only half complete, though hopefully the worst of it was done.  And you can never go back, the persistent thought came again to her mind; you may never see him again.  No, she couldn’t think about that now.  Chikyuu and her people, her own family and friends were all that mattered. 

 

Looking at the minimal screens in the pod, she relaxed at the readings from the child pod next to her.  Yamcha and Usagi were safe and both asleep, the light twin snores when she opened the comms button bringing a smile to her tired countenance.  The navigation computer showed they were four hours from Bryges Space Station, while radar showed nothing pursuing them from the direction of Vegetasei.  The closest blip from that direction was over a day and a half away.  She was desperate for news from the planet, to hear if anyone was injured or her desertion noticed but she resisted the urge.  After, she told herself, after she had met with the other group of humans.  After they were on their way to safety she would see the fallout of her plan.

 

Of all things, she had to thank that newest guard, Daikon.  As part of his initiation into the guards, he was given a thorough tour of the palace, especially its security system.  Repairing the invisibility setting on her projector during her hiatus in records, she was easily able to follow him and Nappa around for the day-long tour of the rather crude security setup.  As with most things, the Saiyajins valued physical strength and loathed technology so weaponized security was non-existent.  Cameras were situated in important areas, the hallways around the throne room, training facilities, barracks, royal quarters, and the dining halls but minimal coverage in the old defunct engineering department, or the spaceport.  There was no infrared, motion tracking, or panoramic capability; they hadn’t even upgraded to colour screens.

 

Most doors had rudimentary locks with those in areas where non-Saiyajins predominate upgrading to general swipe cards often kept in a public area.  Initially shocked by the utter laxity, she felt her insides melt and her brain freeze when she got to the execution grounds part of the tour.  Seeing the brutalized corpses of those caught for the most trivial of offenses, she didn’t wonder at the less than first-class security.  What more deterrent was needed if breaking the rules meant … she didn’t want to think about it again.  It took half a day to convince herself not to abandon the plan altogether: if they did that for graffiti against the crown, what would they do for sabotage, theft, and desertion?

 

Securing the pods was again easier than she would have suspected.  With a constant stream in use for everything from personal travel to vassal to off-world troop deployment, the spaceport was just that, a port.  One random human-rabbit hybrid, again courtesy of her now fixed projector, would not be noticed in the sea of alien mechanics.  It took less than a few keystrokes to take five pods off-line and a shift to decouple three from their parent-child connection with the overall tracking system.  She even did a few repairs on a few well-worn older models and upgraded a few with a propulsion system similar to the Arion.  Least she could do since she was stealing a few for her own purposes.

 

The hardest part was the distraction, something large enough to grab the attention of a wide swath of the compound, but not enough to kill anyone.  More importantly, it needed to look like an accident, remembering the execution area and the Saiyajins’ often brutal sense of justice.  Her mind swam with potential consequences if another empire, or worse Chikyuu, was blamed for a terrorist attack on Vegetasei. 

 

When the answer came, she grinned wickedly at the form of mini-revenge she concocted for those first torturous weeks of disgusting work.  Again her hybrid rabbit joined the truly understaffed maintenance crew and soon, a few empty capsules with a more explosive expansion quotient in the drainage pipes were in place under the dining hall and council area.  A pang of guilt hit her at the thought, and worse the smell, of the resulting mess; at least they had a form of hazmat suits.

 

The rest was easy, a hyper-wave equivalent of a telegram to Bryges, another collar message to Yamcha and the plan went off without a hitch.  In the ensuing chaos after the explosions, no one took note of her, Yamcha, or the sleeping chassidu’s progress to an area formally closed off for repairs.  When they were secured in their pods and lifting off into space, three decoy pods similarly launched on preprogrammed flight plans towards Messaline or Myxini space. 

 

Now that she had time to reflect, she could hear her father scoffing at her 80/20 thinking, running the experiment before working out the potential pitfalls or flaws in her design.  There was only so long a plan could go before it had to be recalibrated but so far, everything had gone like clock-work.  If anything, this felt like a rounding into home base: land and secure the pods in a capsule: make their way to the room: meet Roshi, Chichi and the rest, reveal her true identity and escape again, this time in the Capsule Corps ship with no link to the Saiyajins.  She weighed the benefit of removing the inevitable logos on the ship against the cost in time but in the end, she was too weary of making plans and living on a knife’s edge for the past week to truly care.

 

Grabbing an old pad she borrowed from the space port engineering department, she knew she should begin planning for the critical meeting, contacting the Saiyajins as herself.  Yet her fingers opened the picture files and one group in particular.  Knowing the end was at hand, that she would never see her Prince again, she had begun taking pictures of him. 

 

Usually in front of the cameras, she lacked the skill of a good photographer but her subject more than compensated.  In the throne room, training, during the guardsmen tournament, his regal bearing shone through, even if there was another person in the shot or the lighting was subpar.  She stopped at one file in particular, a meeting between Vegeta and Cawliefe that she was asked to attend.  Assuming it would be questions about the heiress, she was surprised the focus on Goku, the real one.  While it hurt to talk about her friend, she let the video play, if nothing else than to hear his voice.

 

“Yes, I’m aware of him.  He competed in numerous world tournaments, usually being defeated in the final round, except the last one.  With the fate of the world in the balance, he was finally victorious against an evil demon who threatened to destroy Chikyuu.”

 

“A shame for your kind that he could not do something similar to Freeza’s forces.” There was no malice in his words, and she wondered if Vegeta didn’t feel a level of sympathy with Goku.

 

“Kuka was very interested in the … confusion with your identity with this Goku and spoke to the older fighter, a Master Roshi, who shared some files but a few follow-up questions came up.  So this ‘Goku’ did actually win this tournament and was declared the World’s Champion?”  Cawliefe’s rumbling bass, so at odds with his measured tone made her heart ache a little more.  Before Vegeta won her heart, Cawliefe had won her regard with his intelligence and unexpected kindness.

 

“Yes, though there wasn’t much of a stadium when they were finished.”  At that Vegeta chuckled and she felt her heart warm at the sound.  He stared at her with his usual teasing half-smile and she froze the image, letting it fill her heart.  It might be all she would ever have to hold on to with him; she hoped it would be enough.

 

She debated letting the tape run through as the conversation shifted to Goku’s potential relationship with the heiress.  She tried not to sound too knowledgeable, holding back a laugh at Cawliefe’s eluding question around a possible romance between the two.  Vegeta, in his blunter manner, asked if Goku had claimed her as his mate.  Remembering her last true interaction with her naive friend, she doubted Goku even thought of women as a separate sex, though he seemed to have an understanding with Chichi.  Knowing Goku, he probably thought the poor girl was offering him a sandwich.

 

“Hope you never expect a sandwich from me, Vegeta, otherwise I might lose you to Chichi.” She whispered to the half-smiling image on her screen, her own reflection mirroring his expression.  It wasn’t until the static buzz broke the silence that she realised how long she was lost in her own thoughts.

 

“Blue leader, do you read me?” 

 

“Yes, I can hear you, Goofball.  How are you and Usagi doing?  Survive your first trip under cryo-sleep?”

 

“Can’t say I liked the wake-up call but the fur ball and I are okay, though can’t wait to get out of the metal baseball.  No wonder they knock you out to travel in them; I’d go stir crazy stuck in here.  How long before we land?  What’s next in the plan?”  With that question, the engineer part of her brain took over, storing away the pad and locking her heart against the path that could never be. 

 

“We’re scheduled to land within an hour but sadly no sightseeing here either.  It’s more than likely I’ve at least been branded as a fugitive and you will likely be included as a known associate.  I doubt there is a full on-bounty but there might be an arrest warrant out and the less attention we attract, the better.  We have less than two hours before we meet with Roshi and that little cadre, I reveal myself as Bulma and discard the Goku persona forever.  After that, we leave Bryges to fly into a new base where I was able to reserve a few rooms on the border of the Tasu.”  The line went dead and she wondered if Yamcha was stress-testing her plan, working out any holes.

 

“Any chance we could at least get some food to go before this meeting?  I’m starving.”  She smiled and shook her head at the simple request.  He reminded her of a child asking mom for permission, ever assured that everything would turn out to the good.  Her mind went back to Vegeta, his take-charge attitude with the willingness to ask for her advice he displayed time and again.  Unbidden, she wished he was by her side, facing this uncertainty with his usual command, taking on her trials like the lightest of burdens. 

 

“Yes, we can stop for snacks, though maybe I should contact the group one last time to confirm the time and make sure they are okay on their end.  I’ll add in a note to Chichi to ask about bringing some food.  It might take a while to explain everything, especially to some of the slower members of the group.”  A quick order of steamed pork buns crackled over the line and Bulma rolled her eyes at men and their stomachs in a time like this. 

 

Switching the wave frequency over to their pre-selected comms channel, she adopted her lower-voiced persona and asked Chichi to confirm rendezvous time and if possible an order of steamed pork buns.  Twelve minutes later the terse reply flashed up on the screen:

 

1400 confirmed.  I can’t wait to meet you, Goku.  Will bring pork buns.  CCM.

 

Bulma quirked at the message.  She assumed everything would be packed up in capsules by now, the group likely in a tizzy getting all the last minute arrangements ready.  Chichi was an amazing cook though and maybe they knew the best restaurant at the Station.  She smiled despite herself at the chaos that would be descending like a force of nature, remembering that meeting over a week ago.  It wouldn’t be Vegeta but at least there were others who could help everything work.   

 

Switching the comms link back to the pod next to her, she gave Yamcha the update and began running through the checklist in her mind.  Capsules for the pods were in her pocket and the path to the rendezvous spot was playing through her mind.  Her own stomach rumbled and she briefly thought to ask for a second serving but knowing Chichi, she’d bring enough for the group.

 

Like a silver oasis in a star filled sea, Bryges Space Station grew close enough to see in the distance.  A large gleaming white space yacht filled a whole deck while at the edge of her vision she could see individual pods whirling away like comets into that black sea.  The calm before the storm was coming to an end. 

 

The pod port was as busy as ever, technicians and travellers in a flurry and thankfully no eyes on either herself, Yamcha, or the curious chassidu as she capsulized their ships to store.  First project on offer to the Saiyajins would be improvements to these old clunkers, like a cup holder.  With no docking fees to pay or maintenance work needed, the trio bypassed the port authority, slipping unnoticed into the main thoroughfare of the space station towards the administrative buildings. 

 

Next to her Yamcha grew tense, his eyes shifting back and forth as if searching for some hidden threat. 

 

“Is everything okay?  You look like you’re expecting an attack; is it the bandit or the ki-sense coming out?”

 

“Both … neither.  I can’t tell.  There are a few high powered kis in the area but those are just more common in space.  And I can feel eyes on us, but that could be a consequence of our appearance. We are both wearing uniforms with the insignia of the Saiyajin Empire, humans have similar features baring the tails; it’s a natural assumption to make.”  Yamcha said, trying to rationalize his unease but whatever instinct must have kept him alive in the desert was still on alert.  Again time seemed more valuable than stealth as they picked up the pace. 

 

It wasn’t until they reached the generic box of an administrative building that they stopped, the fear of exposure over now that they were away from prying eyes from the street.  The sight of what appeared to be two small Saiyajins and a bunny was enough to attract the attention of even the bored receptionist as they signed in.

 

“Hyena who makes the desert his home and Son Goku, Capsule Corps booked the room passed the elevators on the right side.  Washrooms are left of the elevators and we do have a strict no pets policy.  You will need to have to leave that animal outside or it needs to be in a carrier.”

 

“I’ll handle this.”  Yamcha whispered as he passed the inquisitive rabbit into her arms.

 

“Whatever you say, Hyena boy.  I’ll meet you at the elevators.”  Not caring that her voice didn’t match her outward appearance, she left Yamcha to try and sweet talk the green-skinned saurian who looked like the photos of her mother’s great aunt Doris.  A few moments later they made their way to the room, Usagi secured by a leash and bouncing along at her side.

 

“Do you feel Master Roshi’s ki?” 

 

“I feel something strong and more importantly, I smell pork buns.”  Yamcha smiled broadly as he rushed to the end of the hall, throwing open the door and stopping short.  In front of her was not the rag-tag group of Chikyuujins but a motley crew of aliens.  Two dozen blasters were trained at the trio, each soldier sporting the distinctive white and black armour of the Tsiru-jin mercenary army.  Dear Kami, she felt her heart drop until her stomach, her worst nightmare had come true.

 

In the middle of the troop sat a purple alien, the cross between an octopus and a catfish, chewing on a pork bun. 

 

“Welcome Goku, I can’t wait to meet you.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Kuwi watched as his trap closed around the strange pair, realisation dawning on the larger one as he moved in front of the smaller.  Stupid creatures, as if it would do them any good.  With a snap of his fingers, four soldiers moved behind the two, cutting off any means of escape.  Finishing off the last of the pork buns, the Gnath rose from the meeting room table and confronted this Goku.

 

“Hmm, not quite what I was expecting.  Your bounty hologram and that clip of you fighting were a little more intimidating, but then the camera does add a few pounds.  Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Sergeant Kuwi of the Imperial force of Lord Freeza.  Remember that name, for it will be your doom.”  He proclaimed proudly, only to hold back a twitch of his eye as he took in their blank expressions.  It seems his reputation had not proceeded him.  Well, he was just going to have to make his case the hard way.

 

Phasing into super speed, Kuwi appeared in front of the larger human, slamming his fist into the man’s solar plexus.  The scarred figure doubled over, choking and wheezing in agony before falling silent and Kuwi couldn’t hold back a laugh at the pitiful display.  Taking a quick scan of the pair with his scouter, he growled at the measly readings.  The man on the ground was hardly at 200 while the boy currently being held back by his soldiers was only in the single digit range. 

 

“You,” he signalled to the young feminine looking boy holding a white bunny, “is this Goku?”

 

“No, I’m Goku.”  A decisive voice, barely on the cusp of manhood, came from those too delicate features and Kuwi and the assembled soldiers did laugh; this kid had delusions of grandeur.

 

“Really?  Does Bardock think the Freeza force is really so pathetic that he can send mewing boys to try and defeat us?  We have your fake ‘heiress’ and the rest of her circus freak bodyguards.  If you had hoped for any kind of loyalty from that girl, think again.  She sang like a bird, telling us all how Goku was coming with the Briefs heiress.  You can imagine my disappointment in seeing the two of you walk through the door.”  The boy’s eyes went wide at the news of her betrayal and Kuwi almost felt sorry for the little worm.  Trusting in a woman, how contemptable.

 

“Grab him and get that worthless excuse for a fighter up.  They may not be worth any bounty but they must know where to find the Briefs girl.  That bitch won’t escape my grasp a second time.”  His men threw both figures into the pod style chairs and threw water into the face of the unconscious fighter.  The man sputtered awake before wrapping his arms around his middle, his eyes furious and still full of fight.  Good, torture isn’t nearly as fun with already broken victims. 

 

Scanning from one to the other, he figured the best option was to attack the larger man first.  The stupid boy had already given up his identity at a simple show of strength, how much would he reveal when his protector’s screams would fill the room?  Kuwi grabbed the larger man by his hair, staring down sneeringly at the weak creature.  He needed answers and he needed them now.

 

“Are you working for Bardock or the Briefs heiress?  If you don’t want another love tab I suggest you speak quickly.”  The dark-haired man smiled up at him defiantly, no doubt putting on a brave face for the boy with the bunny. 

 

“Never heard of this Bardock character but then I’ve been out of commission for a few months.  First time in space, can’t say I recommend it.”  The cocky bastard had to audacity to laugh at his own joke.  Kuwi grabbed the back of his head and slammed it down on the table hard.  The man grunted out in pain, blood pouring down his now broken nose.  While the cockiness was dimmed, the look of defiance was firmly in place.  Looking over at the boy, the youth was shaking like a leaf but didn’t look ready to crack.  Time to change tactics.

 

With a nod to one of the soldiers, a blaster was pressed against the back of the youth’s head.  At the simple gesture, the man before him panicked.  Ah, so the boy meant something to him, much more than the other way around. 

 

“I believe you, weakling.  Bardock hasn’t survived this long as a thorn in the Freeza force’s side by taking mewing milksops and pitiful pushovers into his services.  The Briefs’ girl might think herself cunning, but she’s nothing but an amateur at this game.  I should know, I was the one that destroyed her ship and sent her into hiding like a frightened little mouse.  Stupid, trusting wench, taking merchandise that wasn’t her own and thinking it wouldn’t come at a cost.”  A malicious smile spread across his face at the shocked, horrified looks on the pairs’ faces, the youth nearly in tears.  Speculation swirled through his brain as to the source of the reaction.  Either way, he had found an in, a way to crush their devotion to the woman, forming chinks in her armour of intellectual invincibility. 

 

“She was so cocksure, she didn’t even bother to notice the tracking devices on those warp coils, or the small explosives on her ill-gotten shielding.  For a supposed genius, she is clearly subpar in the intelligence department.”  Leaning into the bloodied fighter, Kuwi decided to destroy the last link she had holding the loyalty of these two.

 

“I admire your faithfulness to this chit, a true beauty I’ve heard.  How often males will sacrifice themselves for a pretty face?  Is the reason she sent you to your deaths and not come herself merely because she looks at you as disposable?  Or has the attack left her horribly scarred?  Is she so vain she hid herself away so her value as a bride would stay high?  I’d heard she begged to have Zarbon as her bride price when negotiating for her planet.  Too embarrassed that the groom will call off now.”  At the insults to the woman’s appearance, the boy grew a spine of steel, his brilliant blue eyes blazing with fire.

 

“Ah, I see we have an admirer.  Don’t get your hopes up, twerp.  Women like that Briefs bitch wouldn’t give you the time of day.  Much more likely to screw her betters for her own benefit.  Why else would she have run away from that planet of hers if it wasn’t to save her own skin?  You’d do better to save yourself by giving the selfish witch up.”  Kuwi looked pleased with the hatred that poured from those haunting eyes, the thread that won the devotion of these idiots clearly severed at his accusations.  Yes, tear the wench down, show her inherent inferiority and fickleness and any loyalty would be moot.

 

“Have something to say, Goku?  If you give her up, we’ll let you and your friend go free.  We might let you have the first go when we find her.”  Might as well throw the human a reward before they blasted him into the afterlife.  Leaning into the now vibrating youth, he smirked right up to the moment he heard the gurgle in the back of the throat and felt the warm trickle as the little bastard hocked a loogie at him. 

 

“You lying, murderous fish-faced bastard!!”  He winched in pain at the decibel level of the boy’s screech, the rest of his men covering their ears.  Freeza’s tail, that voice could be classified as a weapon.

 

“Not smart, twerp,” Kuwi growled, wiping the spit off his cheek while his ears were still ringing.  “Sadly I’ll still need your tongue and lips to tell me where that cow is but you won’t need those eyes.”  Hmm, claw or just burn them out, he mused as he brought his hand within inches of the boy’s pale defiant face.  In the corner of his eyes, he could see the small rabbit staring up at his outstretched hand, its dumb black eyes taking the scene in.  Maybe he should crush the rabbit’s head in front of Goku’s eyes before he ripped them from their sockets.

 

“But before, a parting gift to that stupid little bunny of yours.”  He cooed, reaching for the furry white beast.  His hand was inches away when the rodent yawned wide, showing a mouth of razor sharp teeth.  This might not have been the smartest move, he thought, watching in slow motion as the animal …

 

“AHHHHHH!!!!!!”  The scream of pure agony tore through the room, every man groaning in sympathy after the first assault on their poor ears.  It took the Gnath a second to realise the source of the sound was his own scream as he watched the creature bite down again on his right pointer.  The physical calm lasted for half a minute before he sprang into action.

 

“Get it off!  Get it off!  Get it off!” He screamed, wildly flailing his arms in the air, trying to dislodge the devil spawn of hell.  Like a razor slug fish of his native waters, the bunny only bit down harder, riding the frantic motion with grim determination.  One of the larger soldiers ran in front of him and grabbed hold of the beast by its back legs, pulling with all of his might.  He felt a sickening sense of horror as both rabbit and soldier went flying off.  Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down, he chanted to himself, unwilling to take in what had just happened. 

 

“Sergeant, sir, do you need a medic?”  A trembling voice called out and he looked down at his strangely wet hand.

 

“AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Get that damn bunny!”  The room erupted in blaster fire, smoke growing thicker as the beams hit the floor, walls, and furniture, each one missing the mark.

 

“What is wrong with you idiots, just shoot it!”  He screamed, calm enough as long as he didn’t look down.  Oh no, he was going to be sick.

 

“It’s just too fast, sir.”

 

“We can’t risk a frontal assault.  That rabbit’s dynamite.” 

 

Needing to stop this farce, he shaped a large ball of ki and with his left hand, threw it like a grenade.  At the count of three, the blast detonated, sending the rodent flying against the wall.  Behind him, he heard the sounds of a scuffle but his eyes were on the heaving animal, its white fur stained red and mouth empty.  Before he got his men to sweep the room for the missing finger, he was going to rid himself of one headache.  Walking over to the downed animal, he didn’t waste time as he formed a small ki blast to shoot the fool things head off.

 

“No!”  A scream sounded in the room, as his men whimpered in agony at yet another assault on their poor ears.  At the edge of his vision, he saw a dark shape fly at him at full speed and Kuwi pivoted, firing the shot into the scarred warrior’s face at point-blank range.  Tumbling backwards into the blaster burned wall, the warrior landed with a thump, not even twitching.  Annoying gnats, he thought, forming a second blast.  Take two.

 

Again he was thrown to his knees at a blast right between his shoulder blades.  Turning again, he saw the brat armed with a blaster rifle, three of his men at the boy’s feet and the rest looking warily with their hands around their abused ears.  Honestly, if he wanted something done, he would have to do it for himself. 

 

Phasing in front of the boy, he snarled in rage as the blaster hit him in the face, catching him off guard and throwing him back several meters.  Recovering almost immediately, Kuwi threw the boy across the room like a rage doll, ripping the rifle out of his hands at the start of the arc.  Like the warrior before, the boy slammed hard into the wall next to the fur ball, a snapping sound echoing through the now quiet room.  A soft moan gurgled up from the boy’s throat, letting him know that little shit was still conscious.  Good, let him watch and suffer.  Take three.

 

Stalking up to pair of pests, he levelled yet another ki blast at the barely conscious beast but his eyes were on the boy.  A boy who seemed to be phasing himself; the black-blue hair twitching in and out of existence while the features shifted from masculine lines to feminine shapeliness.  A fizzle of smoke rose from the small band at his, no her, wrist and the transformation was complete.

 

Blue eyes filled with pain stared up at him; blue, just like the unusual hair colour.

 

“And somehow I don’t think you’re a decoy.”  He said under his breath before the full measure of this change hit him.  He found her, the Briefs bitch who had played his master for a fool, who had disappeared without a trace.  Or rather hidden in the Saiyajin territory by her clothes, the Saiyajins she was no doubt trying to escape from.  He didn’t know what was more delicious: that she had tricked those pea-brained monkeys or that he had discovered her secret.  Already he could see his glorious future in front of him, one of Freeza’s foremost lieutenants, maybe even becoming an alternate member of the Ginyu force.

 

“I guess the attack didn’t leave you scarred, wench.”  This time his voice was loud, loud enough to cut through the fog of pain clouding her eyes.  At his words, those blue eyes went wide in terror and he could nearly taste her despair on his tongue.  Forgetting the other two pains in his side, he hoisted the woman up by the front of her shirt, drinking in her fear. 

 

“Lord Freeza said she’s not to be killed, Zarbon wants no marks on that face.  Everything else is fair game, boys.”  Even through her pain, she tried to fight him, crying out ‘no’.

 

“Yes.” He hissed.  “And you’ll never forget the name of Ku …”  The main doors exploded inwards with the force of a ki blast and the already devastated room filled with dust and ash.  Thrown off his feet, he skid against the floor, the girl crumpled in a ball in the middle of the room.  Salas Prime, what the hell was it now?  Through the sound of coughing, two sets of boot steps echoed down the long hallway and a familiar figure with black and green armour and those distinctive spikes emerged from the settling dust.  An equally tall shape with shorter cropped straight hair flanked behind him.  This day was getting better and better.

 

“Bardock, I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

The reverberation of soul-shattering screams faded to nothing and the old purge Captain smiled.  The past evils he had done were ever present, but this future evil he and Toma had stopped.  Sounds warped in his head as the vision of a possible future shifted and he forced his attention to the now as a new old voice sounded in his ears.

 

“been waiting for this moment.”  To find the girl he had sunk himself deep into the Sight and getting out would take a little time.  Before him was a soldier he had caught glimpses of from possible futures.  Like a twitching hologram, Bardock saw him in a series of might-bes: floating in a tank with Freeza scowling to the side, wearing a Ginyu force uniform, a skeleton, a one-eyed bounty hunter.  Hmm, a good possibility is still there, whatever was to happen was still not certain.

 

“You shouldn’t, Gnath.  I see your fate.”  His voice echoed like the grave, chilling the blood of all who heard it and the cocky soldier lost his annoying smirk. 

 

Good. 

 

The rest of the men weren’t ki-wielders, standard grunts armed with blasters, good to overwhelm and subdue but not a challenge to a seasoned fighter.  Especially in their current state; the girl had more fire in her than his visions had indicated.

 

With barely a glance at Toma, the pair began to fight, drawing the blaster fire away from the two, no three, injured beings they were there to rescue.  He braved a glance at the downed bunny: sleeping in a pen, skinned in a pot, surrounded by an ever-growing brood of razor toothed kits.  A flash of plasma burned his arm and he growled at his inattention.  Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated on the dwindling group of grunts below him, focusing his ki.  The eight phasing figures locked into one, skeletons.  He fired and vision and reality were one.

 

He quickly spared a glance at Toma and the Gnath, the Freeza force fighter holding out better than he had expected.  A small reverberation shimmered around them, of Toma, several decades older against the one-eyed bounty hunter.  Smirking at the sight, Bardock knew the worst of that fate that had sent him hurdling down this hallway had been averted.  Now to the woman.

 

Dropping quickly to the floor, he glanced at the girl lying curled up and cradling her broken arm.  Though her face had featured prominently with that of his son, he had not given her much thought until he saw Kakarott leave her ship and the timelines fractured.  The future, ever uncertain, broke apart like a kaleidoscope, with this girl tied up with the fate of his people. Already the waves of images were building up, ready to crash over him.  Taking in the ashen sweat-soaked face, marred with bruises and shaking with pain and shock, he took pity and pressed the nerve on her neck, rendering her unconscious.

 

::She is lying in a stolen ship, her eyes bitter and haunted, a fugitive on the run from the Colds.  Her home planet a dust field due to the cost of her rebellion.::

 

::She is lying alone in her bed, she and her people are alive.  The Saiyajins purchased a contract and opened a branch of Capsule Corps on Vegetasei at the cost of a Saiyajin outpost on Chikyuu.  The planet is safe but inside she pines for a love that never lived yet never died.::

 

::She is lying with vacant eyes, between the drugs and the shock of her first time being used against her will.  Another male comes in, the high class off-world brothel never having seen a woman like her.::

 

::She is lying cradled in the arms of Prince Vegeta, a sleepy smile of a well-loved woman on her lips.  A bite mark mars the porcelain skin of her neck, while in her womb, Chikyuu brains join with Saiyajin strength in a power to rival the gods.::

 

::She is lying in a pool of blood, tears falling from her sorrowful eyes as she cradled that all too familiar face to her chest, her brother in spirit, spared the ignominious death of a traitor.::

 

::She is lying bruised and broken.  There was fire the first time and for months after but eventually everyone gets ground down by the treatment she’s endured.  Even the very tread of Nappa’s feet causes her throat to seize in panic.::

 

“Bardock, watch out.”  Toma’s voice cuts through the tumult of visions and he turns to shield the girl from the blast, relying on his armour and ki to keep him upright.  A moment later, the purple-skinned Gnath kicks him in the side, the larger fighter’s body bruised and one of his eyes oozing liquid.  The images flash again without the Ginyu force armour or the skeleton, before he forced his thoughts to the present and the fighter in front of him, his bloody knuckles ready to throw a punch.

 

“I don’t think so, Saiyajin.  This space station is full of my soldiers, an entire battalion is in the lobby of this building as we speak. That bitch has a date with Freeza and my promotion is riding on it.  I suggest you drop her and run and I might think about sparing your life.”  Even without his Sight, he could see through the paper-thin boast.  The fighter’s greed wouldn’t let a 2.3 million credit bounty escape.

 

“No, she doesn’t and neither do I, Gnath.  Your men are dead or scattered and even if Freeza’s forces get here in time, they won’t be able to stop our escape.  You might have succeeded too, except in your arrogance you brought only weak soldiers, hoping superior numbers would win out so you wouldn’t have to share the glory with any other competent ki-wielding lieutenants.  Since you are so fond of predicting the future, let me tell you your possible fates.”  The cocky glint in his eye was gone, even as his sneer tightened on his fish mouth.

 

“The Ginyu force will be here in three hours, alerted by one of their spies.  You will stay here to be healed before facing Freeza’s tender mercies when you explain why you let two great prizes escape.  Or you will run as far as you can as fast as you can at the cost of that eye and hope Freeza forgets your very name.”  Below his gravelled tenor, the gong of fate sounded through his words, rippling through the now still air.

 

“I chose neither.”  He screamed and threw the ki-blast he had hidden behind his back.  Not looking, Bardock dropped the girl before phasing around the blast.  With movement beyond thought, he punched the Gnath full in the face, using the momentum of his strike to kick him into the ground.  The fighter disappeared into the ruins of the table, his fate no longer Bardock’s concern.

 

“Is she safe?”  He didn’t even look at his squad brother, merely flew down to grab the still unconscious beast and human.

 

“Have her right here.”  Toma replied, cradling the girl with more care than Bardock would have anticipated.  “She is a beauty, a face like hers could be worth a fortune.  Any chance we could take her on the run?”  The images from before surfaced, only to dissolve as he shook his head. 

 

“No, that isn’t her fate.  She and Kakarott will tip the scales of fate for the Saiyajins if we can get her to safety.”  With an unwavering faith solidified over decades, Toma smirked and flew through the rubble of the room, down the hallway and into the empty lobby of the administrative building, Bardock hot on his heels.  Not bothering with the doors, they blasted out the large windows above them and flew at full speed through the main thoroughfare and down to the space pod port. 

 

Sparing a glance at his partner and the still unconscious girl, he saw several of those potential futures fall away: the fugitive, and the successful lonely woman were no more.  He looked away as one potentiality rose to the surface as the likely end, a cold slither of dread proceeding the vision.

 

‘We have company.’  Toma cursed into his mind and Bardock looked back to see the lights of the space station security services rush to the administrative building, back-up coming in the next few minutes.

 

‘It will be ten minutes before they reach us and they are a skeleton force.  Between us and Kakarott, we should be able to fight them off after we send her back.’  Toma looked surprised at the statement, no doubt thinking the girl was their return ticket into the good graces of the Vegetas.

 

‘Unfortunately she’s too important to take her with us and we can’t defend her and save ourselves at the same time.  I know Kakarott would have wanted to see her safe but fate had other plans.’ At those words, that future where his Chikyuu-raised son meets his end at his older son’s hand dissolved like mist.  With that change, a new potentiality, bright and full of hope opened up with another Saiyajin-Chikyuu-jin pairing strong beyond comprehension. 

 

A jostle at his side and he turned his attention from Toma to his own cargo, specifically the young man he was currently carrying towards the space port.  The man tensed and Bardock glanced at him, touching him with the lightest Sight, hoping he wouldn’t cause another ripple in the stream of causality.  Another Chikyuu-jin fighter, though lacking the skill and heart of Q-ball, in love with the girl and yet not strong enough to either defend her or stand up to her.  He could see him in space as a rogue, or back on his beloved Chikyuu but never a large player in the affairs of the Saiyajins.

 

“Where are you taking us?”  The human yelled out against the rush of the wind from their flight.  He wasn’t fighting so at least he understood they weren’t the enemy.

 

“There.”  Bardock pointed to the space port, a few moments away and getting closer.  Thankfully the main security force wasn’t there yet.  “We need to get her to safety.”  The young man simply nodded but Bardock still couldn’t stop from staring at him.  Ah yes, like the girl this Yamcha featured through the life of his Chikyuu-jin son.  Of course, the boy touched everyone he met.

 

“Our pods are stored in Bulma’s pocket, the green-banded capsule.”  Hmm, and here he thought this fighter, this wolf fist warrior, had no more role to play.  Toma and he descended to the ground, the young man hitting the ground with them and the three of them ran with the girl and bunny still unconscious.  Throwing the human the rabbit, Bardock grabbed the girl off of Toma before his compatriot flew into the air and towards the growing sound of approaching soldiers.

 

‘Buy us some time.’  Toma was off like a shot, a grin on his face at the prospect of combat.  Though he was injured, the Chikyuu-jin may be a help as well, once the girl was safe. 

 

In an empty section of the port, they finally stopped and Bardock let the young man search the girl’s pockets while he set the broken bone of her arm.  The force of it jolted her awake and she cried out in pain.

 

“Goku, you’re alive.  I didn’t kill you.”  Rough with pain, her voice was still soft with relief and sadness.  He almost smiled at the child-like statement; she didn’t know his son and the smaller human had escape.

 

“Your Goku is alive, child, give up your guilt.”  Pulling out a tiny pouch, he fingered a sliver of green, the last portion of the strange senzu the Chikyuu-jin fighters had given him, saved for an emergency.  Slipping the portion through her lips, she instinctively began to chew and the worst of her injures slowly melted, the set bone quickly reknitting.  The image of the brothel whore blips out of existing, just two possibilities for her now.

 

The loud pop and smoke cloud signaled the young man had found the capsule pod, as Bardock gently picked the young woman up.  Her blue eyes were hazy with the euphoria of not-pain, a sad smile of relief that the worst of her sins was now erased. 

 

“Where are you sending her?” A young man asked, his trust starting to waver in Bardock’s motives.

 

“Her only guaranteed safety now is back with the Saiyajins.  Your Goku reprogrammed your ship’s computers to ensure you both got there, though he could not have foreseen all the ins and outs of his decision. She was hiding in plain sight for months, they will protect her still.  In two hours, evil the likes of which you have never seen will arrive at this station looking for her and us.  For both our sakes, we will need to separate.”  The boy didn’t need to know it was less than a 50/50 shot all would turn to the good.  The changing of that future would depend on him and his rediscovered son getting to her in time.

 

“Give me my tool kit then,” a weak voice from the pod said and both men turned to the woman now taking the strange watch from her wrist.  “The projector was damaged in the fight, I need to repair it before… .”   Already the girl was starting to fade, the small portion was just enough to heal only the worst injuries.

 

“Do you swear she’ll be safe?”  The young man asked with all earnestness.

 

“Yes, the Saiyajins are her and Chikyuu’s best shot.”  The warrior merely nodded, slipped a similar watch off his wrist and flicked a button, a portion of his body disappearing. 

 

“She gave me this in case I needed to disappear when we escaped but I never needed it.”  He pressed the button and his image shifted back to normal.  Bardock smirked and motioned for the man to do the honours.  The boy kissed the forehead of his first love before slipping the projector on her wrist and her image disappeared.  Glancing back at the now closing pod, the future with Nappa winked out of existence and he saw her dressed in various outfits, her expression shifting from love, to acceptance, to cruelty, to blank nothingness.  Unfortunately her fate was beyond his power, but the best possible future was before them.

 

“She’s meant for better than us, Yamcha.  I hope that cocky bastard of a Prince appreciates the jewel he’s getting.”  So caught up in the now rising pod, both men were caught off guard by the blaster beam that struck Bardock in the face, knocking him to the ground.  With more heart than skill, the human shot back, throwing the black armoured security drone to the ground.  Already they could see dozens of black dots in the distance and approaching fast.

 

“There’s one more pod, if you want to escape, human.”  Bardock croaked out and the man shook his head, definitely more heart than brains. 

 

“Pretty weak to cut and run when you saved my life.  Are you able to fight or fly?” 

 

“Both.  The drones are meant to subdue but as I said, we don’t want to be here in two hours.”  A blur of motion appeared at their side and Toma joined the fray, shooting down three approaching drones while looking for more sentient obstacles. 

 

“What now?” 

 

“We’ll need to get to one of the larger docking bays, that way.”  Both of his comrades followed his directions and took to the sky.  Clicking on his scouter, Bardock found the channel and smirked, seeing through the younger man’s scouter for a brief moment.

 

“Kakarott, mealtime is over.  Meet us at docking bay #6 and make sure those Chikyuu-jins bring that ship of theirs.  We are going to need the room.”  Smirking as the last pieces fell into place, Bardock looked over at his long-time companion.  Toma had sacrificed everything to help him, going beyond even the loyalty of a squad brother.  A face he dared not think of flashed into his mind and he smiled.  Soon they would be home.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Chichi winced as her back began to ache, yet she dared not shift to relieve the strain.  Next to her on the floor sat Master Roshi and Yajirobe, both bruised and worse for wear while Maron was laying with her head in Chichi’s lap, quiet, self-pity tears wetting Chichi’s skirts.  Sparing a glance at the clock, the time had just gone past 1430 and she felt the burning taste of bile at the back of her throat. 

 

“Kami, Maron.  How could you do it?”

 

“Oh Chichi, please don’t.  They were going to pull off your fingernails.  They had already beaten Roshi and Robe up so badly.”  Looking around at the soldiers surrounding them, the men were hardly paying attention to them as they currently were finishing off her pork buns.  With more sympathy than she thought she could muster, Chichi rubbed the back of Maron’s head. 

 

“We could have just lied and put them off the scent.  You might have just condemned Goku and the Briefs heiress.  Our mission was to save Chikyuu.”

 

“What’s the point of trying to save an abstraction when everything that represents home is being threatened?”  It was on her lips to say their four lives were nothing in the grand scheme but the words died in her mouth.  The girl was a pain in the ass but she wasn’t a completely selfish brat.

 

“Hey, no talking.”  One of the more alert guards yelled out, as several of the soldiers flipped the safeties on their blasters.  Though she had no ki-sense herself, even she could feel these weren’t fighters.  Unfortunately with the firepower trained on them, they didn’t need to be.

 

“Any word from that cocky jerk yet, Peetsu?”  One man yelled out from her kitchen, likely getting into her Ichigo Daifuku.  Chichi began to grind her teeth, it took her forever to find those strawberries.

 

“Nothing yet but with all the firepower they brought, there is no way they can escape.  If that rogue Bardock really is there, imagine our cut of the bounty.”  A gecko looking creature replied.

 

“You think that cheap bastard will share any of that with us, especially with us babysitting these pathetic weaklings?  Ohh, strawberries!” 

 

“Don’t hog it all, Tivi.”    

 

“Corporal Peetsu,” a bipedal dog alien broke in, clearly jumpier than his fellow soldiers.  “What do you think Kuwi’s going to do with this lot?  Once they get that real heiress, he isn’t going to need the fake one.”  Chichi felt Maron tense and curled herself even tighter into a ball.  Flashing to Master Roshi, he briefly nodded to her and she felt her own muscles tensing in anticipation of a fight. 

 

“She’s pretty but a bit loud for my taste.  The other one’s got potential, a lot harder to break.”  The gecko commented and the taste of burning redoubled in her mouth at the thought of what this lot had in store for her and Maron. 

 

Looking up at the crowd below her bangs, she counted eight surrounding them, at least four covering them with their blasters.  Two were in her kitchen, leaving half of the original twenty while the other nine went with their purple skinned commander to ambush poor Goku.  Chichi watched the low-level soldiers, seeing how likely their rag-tag trio could catch them off guard.  She and Yajirobe could take two each, Roshi easily managing the rest.  If they got a blaster, it would improve their odds, if they didn’t blasted before they managed to move.

 

“I wouldn’t, Peetsa, Kuwi-san said he might need them as bargaining chips if that Goku didn’t cooperate.  If he’s as fierce as that video showed, I wouldn’t want to mess with him.”  A red-haired human looking soldier stepped into the main room, polishing off three of her Ichigo Daifuku.

 

“Damn it, where do you keep getting the food?  Those look delicious.”

 

“The cooling unit was full of it, like they were preparing a huge feast.  There must be dozens of these little cakes and they’re great, better than the slop they usually feed us.”  Chichi felt several eyes on her and wondered if they were hatching a plot to take her and Maron for their own purposes.  Kami, to think she actually wanted excitement and adventure and now she was facing the real possibility of a life as a kitchen slave.  If she ever got out of this situation, she would be content with peace and quiet.

A loud burst of static sounded through half a dozen of those weird half-sunglasses all of the men were wearing and the once loose, distracted soldiers tensed.  Her half dreamed scheme to fight their way out died with that sound; it was one thing to take out unfocussed fighters, quite another to confront alert ones.

 

The lizard looking alien named Peetsa clicked on his weird communicator, nearly wincing at the loud sounds of combat that blasted through the tiny speaker.  Everyone in the room could hear the scream of blaster fire and the shouting of terrified men.

 

“Peetsa, come here quickly.  We’re under attack.  It’s Bardock and Toma.”  The sound of those names seemed to chill the blood of every man there.  Wasn’t part of their mission to capture this Bardock anyway?  Honestly, to think that purple skinned idiot’s plans could all fall apart because their target brought a friend?

 

“What about the prisoners?”

 

“They aren’t important, just eliminate them.  All but the girl.”  The static filled message sounded like a death knell through the too quiet room.  The pleasure she felt at that idiot’s defeat turned to ash in her mouth.  Maybe it wasn’t too late to volunteer as a kitchen slave.

 

“Tivi, grab the blue-haired girl.  Laeft, Oba, and Wafru, do it quickly.  We don’t want them making trouble.”  The red-haired humanoid reached down to grab Maron off Chichi’s lap; it was now or never.  A new series of beeps sounded from those strange sunglasses but Chichi ignored them as she prepared herself to fight to the bitter end.  At her side, she saw Roshi’s eyes go wide and a smile spread across his wizened face.

 

“It’s …”

 

“HA!”

 

Like a bolt from the blue, the door into the suite and half the wall exploded, the air full of smoke and muffled screams.  Opening her eyes, Chichi found herself on the other side of the room, the force of the blast sending her and her companions into the back wall.  Their executioners were not so lucky, she noticed, their blasters laying harmlessly on the ground next to three sets of empty boots.

 

In the newly hushed room, Chichi could practically feel the vibrations of the footsteps coming from the giant hole that once was their main door.

 

“It’s …”

 

“Bardock!”

 

“Bardock?”

 

“Can’t be, where are the scars?”

 

“Turles?”

 

“Goku!”

 

“Goku?  Wow, that cute boy hit the gym hard.”

 

“Are you sure Roshi, where is the Kame gi?”

 

“He’s even more handsome than I remember.”  Chichi whispered to herself, looking up at the grown-up face of that boy who she promised her hand to all those years ago.  For a moment, she struggled with her love between this Goku and the sweet boy who had been ambushed.  Oh no, the other Goku.

 

“ATTACK!!”  The bipedal lizard screamed at the remaining six soldiers who began firing at anything that moved.  Grabbing Maron by the hand, Chichi jumped behind the couch and let the battle go off around her, daring to sneak a peek.  Roshi and Yajirobe were both holding their own while above them Goku took out his opponents with effortless grace.  Dressed in armour similar to the Saiyajins and wearing one of those strange monocles, she watched him fight with inherent joy in every movement, a taller, more handsome version of the little boy she fought with as a child.

 

“Phase two soldiers, deploy.  We have confirmation of Bardock, assist immediately.”  Peetsa yelled into his half sunglasses as the last of his soldiers fell to Yajirobe’s sword. 

 

“Master Roshi, what are you doing here?  How did you get into outer space?”  Goku exclaimed, and Chichi felt her heart skip a beat.  He really was real and whole and here.

 

“Goku, my boy, you have no idea how glad we are to see you.  Your timing is always impeccable.  We’re here to help Bulma but maybe we should talk about this after we face whatever reinforcement our scaly friend just called for.  I can feel a large ki signature coming our way.”  Chichi stood up from behind the couch, determined to fight next to the men’s side, no matter what came through that door. 

 

Walking up on the far side of Yajirobe, she felt Goku’s eyes shift from Peetsa to her and she dared a quick look back at him.  His warlike visage softened at the sight of her, shifting to confusion, before a goofy smile spread across his face and he appeared to blush.  Unable to help herself, Chichi followed suit, blushing until she heard a set of footsteps approaching the giant hole that was their door.

 

“Attack!  Fire at will.”  Peetsa yelled and a ki blast flew through the air, and right through his armour.  The lizard stared down in shock at the now gaping hole in his chest before crashing like a felled tree.

 

“Sorry Will.”  A familiar voice called out as a short, bald-headed former monk similarly decked out in Saiyajin armour stepped into the now awkwardly silent room.

 

“Krillin!”  Master Roshi finally yelled out, earning an eye-roll from his old pupil.  “It’s like a reunion.  All we need is Yamcha and Turtle and it would be like old times.”

 

“Are we going to have any more unwanted guests?”  Goku asked, his expression shifting back to serious.

 

“Not from his lot.”  Krillin replied, nudging the dead lizard with his gold-tipped boot.  “Your dad was right, as usual.  That commander really did take nothing but blaster grunts with him.  Once the first call came out, we just had to lie in wait and take them out.  Unfortunately I heard an alert come through on the space station’s security channels.  Bardock’s been spotted, the drones were being deployed and it won’t be long before every bounty hunter in the region will be on our tails.”

 

“I hate to say the reunion is going to have to wait, Master Roshi.  We’re going to have to move now.  How long will it take to pack up and run?” 

 

“Ten minutes max.  We had already packed up most things before these jerks crashed our party.”  Already Yajirobe and Maron were grabbing what items were left, Krillin following after Maron to help her throw her luggage into a quick store capsule.  Chichi, feeling her nervousness grow now that the immediate fighting had ended, ran into the kitchen to assess the damage to her delicious feast.  A silly part of her whimpered at the mess they left of her beautiful strawberry cakes, only eight of the four dozen she had lovingly prepared last night remained.  Typical men, they ate all of the meat and left the salads, only the last bamboo basket of pork buns still left on the steamer untouched.

 

“Those smell delicious.  Can I have some?”  An unexpected voice spoke next to her ear and Chichi jumped a foot in surprise.  She nearly yelled out as she felt a pair of large warm hands move to her waist, steadying her on her feet.  Holding her as she had imagined in her dreams, Goku was staring down at her, smiling with that sweet grin yet with a puzzled look on his face.

 

“Of course,” her voice cracked a little and she tried to swallow against her suddenly dry mouth.  “I made them for Goku, to celebrate.”  The words were clearer but airier, the smell of fight and male blending with the tangy of sauced pork as he grabbed a dumpling from the steamer.

 

“These are better than they smell.  Is everything you make this good?”  The puzzled look faded as his eyes seemed to twinkle in sheer delight, another two buns stuffed in his mouth.

 

“You shouldn’t eat like that?”  She giggled, her propriety warring with her happiness at his clear love of her cooking.  “I learned all the wifely arts but cooking is my favorite.  Way to a man’s heart and all that.”  He stared at her then, a strange hungry look not completely related to the seventh pork bun he had just eaten flashing across his face.  Before she had time to react, he was leaning over her, brushing his lips against hers, the lightest friction causing her to shiver. 

Feeling him move away, Chichi threw caution to the wind and pressed her lips against his, her hands tangling in the wild mess of his hair.  Shocked at her boldness, he quickly began to mimic her movements, drawing her against his armour clad chest. 

 

“Kakarott, meal time is over.  Meet us at docking bay #6 and make sure those Chikyuu-jins bring that ship of theirs.  We are going to need the room.”  A harsh tenor voice cut through her thoughts and she opened her eyes to see a tiny version of Goku’s face staring down at her from that green glass.  Blushing furiously, she ran around the kitchen, throwing the leftovers into the fridge before activating the capsules.  A set of hands grabbed her by the waist again and she was once more in Goku’s arms, his expression serious while his eyes still sparkled with boyish mischief.

 

“Where is your ship?  Not at the bottom of a purse, I hope.”

 

“Roshi has it in his front pocket.  We knew we might need a quick getaway and only he and I know how to fly it.  I’m sorry about earlier.  I shouldn’t have been so …”  She couldn’t get another word out before his lips were back, playing across her own and stealing her breath away.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you before but I’d never seen you without your headdress and bikini.  Did … did you learn to cook like that for me?”  Unable to trust her voice, she merely nodded, looking up at her young, wild man with tenderness.  While her heart wanted to ask if he remembered his promise to her, the reality of the here and now intervened.

 

“Are you two ready?  Toma said they have Yamcha but the drones are on their tails, literally.”  Krillin appeared at the door, looking at the pair of them awkwardly.  Wondering where she might have stored Maron’s air bike, Chichi started as she was scooped up into Goku’s arms, Yajirobe climbing onto his back.  A gasp of shock followed as Krillin lifted Maron and Roshi in a similar way.  Both men rose off the ground and flew through the wreckage and out towards the space port, small dots now following in their trail.

 

Chichi smiled and snuggled deeper into Goku’s arms.  She could feel the call to adventure sing in her blood; peace and quiet could wait.