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Chapter 1
Eleven years before the birth of the Super-Saiyan
Miso was so startled at his youngest's pronouncement that he almost forgot to backhand his son across the room.
Almost.
He watched Youkan pull himself back up to his feet by increments, fingers scrabbling for handholds, leaning into the dented wall. The young man swallowed back blood rather than mar the carpet by spitting it out. That's his mother's doing, thought Miso in disgust. Don't do this, that, the other thing indoors; it's not proper. Easterners. "That's settled, then," the Chieftain stated when his son finally raised his head enough to look him in the eye. "We won't speak of this again."
A sardonic twist flashed across the other man's face. "So we don't expect you at the ceremony?" Youkan queried, sarcastic. "That will save a fortune on the wedding feast. I'll let Kimchee know."
"You are not marrying the bitch. Do you know what Nappa breeds with? Any daughter of his carries the taint. You are not bringing that into our line."
"If you disown me, you disown me," shrugged Youkan. "There's at least one other claimant for the tribal leadership. Anyway, Mother will need one of us to take over her tribe on the Eastern Continent."
"That has been decided."
For a moment, sympathy and sorrow showed in Youkan's eyes before both were carefully blanked. "Father, he's been gone for almost thirty years. Even if he is alive to come back...he must not want to, eh?"
Grimacing, Miso folded his arms. Losing one of the brats as an infant was no big deal; a significant number died early, so there was no point in getting maudlin about it. It was what happened to his own namesake and intended heir almost forty years ago, when the brat made the mistake of fighting with his older brother. But losing one as an adult was a hard thing. He was surprisingly sentimental about his wife's firstborn, considering...
Youkan distracted the Chieftain by returning to the subject he was more interested in. "You cannot prevent me from marrying, Father. I am of age."
"Do you know what half of your sons will be? There's no point to a union with one of Nappa's brats. Look, if you want to get married and you're serious about taking over your mother's tribe, why don't you let her pick out some candidates for you among her own people? That would strengthen your ties to the region, at least."
"Being son of their daimyo is not enough?" demanded Youkan, sardonic.
"You are also the son of the Chieftain of all the Southern Tribes," Miso sharply replied. "That's the part that will make them nervous."
"I am the youngest son, with at least one elder brother and perhaps two," pointed out Youkan. "It would be unusual for me to become Chieftain unless I challenged for it. I do not intend to challenge Shiruko."
Miso snuffed out an un-Saiyan flash of relief, instead responding, "That is between you and Shiruko. It will go easier for you as an Eastern chieftain if you are at least married to a tribal member. I'll get in touch with your mother and we'll discuss it--"
A rush of color came up Youkan's neck, spilled onto his cheeks. "I want to marry Kimchee, Father. I'm going to marry her." There was open defiance in his stare. "We're bonded."
There was a moment of silence.
"You hit your head during one of the qualifying tournaments?" wondered Miso. "That's absurd. No one in our line bonds."
Folding his arms, Youkan snarled, "I did. I have."
Raising his eyes to the ceiling, "It's an epidemic," Miso said to no-one in particular. "Or a fad, like those sashes some of the females are wearing that mimic the Earth creature's equipment--"
"The Queen," corrected Youkan, sharply. "Who I will likely be assigned to protect once I become one of the King's Guards, so have a care."
"Have a care yourself, brat. Bonded warriors can't be trusted to fulfill their duties. Announce such things too loudly, and you will not become a Guard no matter how well you perform in the tournament."
"The King is bonded, and no one questions his ability to carry out his duties!"
After another pause, "The King has entered into a political union, similar to the one I have with your mother, similar to what I have suggested for you," said Miso, coldly. "Although it has been a long time since such a thing has occurred in the Royal line, it is not unusual among the nobility, or even among the lesser ranks."
"The King said he was bonded--!"
"Were you there, brat? I was. The late King ordered the Heir to do whatever it took to get the Chikyuu technology; the Heir did. He was being a dutiful son." His expression turned sardonic. "They seem to be a dying breed."
"Chishan said--"
"Was he there?"
For the first time, Youkan's gaze wavered.
"I thought not. Everything happened very quickly, Youkan, and the resulting accounts have passed through so many mouths they have become completely garbled. Half the people spreading these treasonous rumors are aliens with political agendas of their own. There is no bonding in the House of Vejiitasei. There is no bonding in the House of Misei. You are not bonded to this Chia woman."
"Kimchee."
"Whoever. The point is, it is not possible for this to have happened. You've mistaken the desire to mate for something that does not exist in our line. It is not unusual for the young to do this." After looking at his son's angry, disbelieving face, Miso asked, with no seeming purpose, "Have you discussed this with your mother?"
Another flare of red traveled across Youkan's face. Again, his eyes flinched. "Yes," he muttered.
"I see she told you about her own 'bonding' experience," remarked Miso, dryly. "She was not much older than you when that happened. It wasn't real, of course, and she married me bare weeks after she snapped out of it. So, you see, whatever you wish to think now, you have nothing permanent with this Kia person."
"Kimchee!"
"It's just hormones," continued Miso, ignoring Youkan's interjection. "Six months later, what are you left with? Some low-class female you have nothing in common with who will end up looking like Nappa and a brat in a tank carrying who-knows-what bizarre genetics into the next generation. Your mother and I can find someone that will strengthen your position in the Eastern Continent and not contaminate the bloodlines of two lineages doing it."
"What Mother said," muttered Youkan, looking mutinous and embarrassed all at once, "was that if Kimchee felt the same way, I should grab her and hold on for all I was worth. And Kimchee does."
Silence.
"Easterners," growled Miso. "They are all so--emotional. It's that damned singing. Rots the brain. Fine, marry Nappa's spawn. But know you forfeit all tribal claims. And when you have sons that desert their posts because some seasonal female is in sniffing range, don't come whining to me after they're executed for treason!"
"I'm going into the tournament to become a King's Guard like Mother was before she became her tribe's chieftain," replied Youkan. "After that; well, I have no interest in governing the Southern Tribes. We'll just have to see what happens with Mother's tribe, eh? I'll let you know when the wedding is."
Miso snorted and turned away. There was a long pause, during which he thought he could feel Youkan's eyes boring into his back. Then there was the sliding sound of a door closing, and he knew he had lost this one, too. He sighed, looking into the corner where the communication station was, knowing he would have to call his wife to demand what the hell she thought she was doing--but, not immediately. He hated yelling at her. He would wait until he no longer felt like yelling. Ah, Nira. You would tell the boy that. I had forgotten how much it meant to you at the time. You did not tell him everything, eh? Or Youkan would be challenging him instead of heading off to the tournament, and there would be a nice to-do. Why did I settle on you again? Oh, right; hormones. At least I didn't make the mistake of thinking it anything else--and neither did you. That's why we've managed so well through half-a-century.
He thought of the eldest boy--he did, sometimes. The argument with Youkan brought many of the memories back. Nira's firstborn would be in his fifth decade, just entering his prime as a fighter. All the signs indicated he would be a high-level Elite, as her other two surviving children would be when they reached their full power. His union with her had brought some much needed raw power into the House of Misei. But her eldest had been the best, the strongest, the most Saiyan of the three. A shame he could not succeed me, Miso thought crossly. But we agreed he would lead her Eastern tribe, eventually. Ah, well. I still have Shiruko. And he is the one who is most like me, eh?
Miso realized that, while he was still angry, he was far calmer than he had been. Sitting down at the console, he tapped out the commands that fed into his wife's private quarters half-a-planet and several time-zones away. When she answered, looking at him warily through the dark bangs, he experienced a rare moment of humor. "You have always been far more trouble than you were worth," he said sharply. "What were you thinking, to say such a thing to the boy?"
"Eh," Nira said after a moment, "does it matter? Whether he's bonded to the little slut or not is immaterial. Telling him he isn't will just make him more determined. He does take after me. Or did you forget that?"
"He's thinking he might inherit your tribe," said Miso. "Did you know that?"
Nira snapped, "That's taken care of."
"Is it? Have you heard anything? I haven't."
"No," she admitted after a moment. "I have some of my off-world tribals look for him, occasionally. The most we get are...rumors. From every which direction, from more places than he could have possibly traveled in even three decades." She added after a pause, unemotionally, "Bardock and that high-ranked whore of his have just returned from a search. He's good, usually, at distinguishing between fact and rumor. Perhaps something will come of it, this time."
"Nira," said Miso, "you had better consider the possibility of another heir."
"Youkan should marry whom he wishes, but his tainted offspring will not lead my tribe," snapped Nira.
"Nira, I mean, another heir."
She blinked at him, then suddenly grinned. "Ho, nervous now that you're down to one heir yourself, eh? I'm game, but it'll have to wait a few weeks. The various Elite-ranked nobles have duties associated with the upcoming tournament, and I'm going to be in and out of the capitol. I'd rather wait until after that before doing any breeding."
Miso shrugged. "No hurry."
"Oh, yes, there is. You conveniently forget what a hassle raising children is when they don't go off-world. If we breed soon, any offspring will be, what, five during the next moon? That's old enough to control, but barely. Any younger than that, and we're likely to have our hands full."
Miso winced. He had forgotten, but then, Shuriko's little two-year-old temper-tantrum had been inflicted on the Eastern Continent, not here. "All right," he agreed. "After the tournaments, then."
"I look forward to it," Nira smiled. "Go easy on Youkan, eh? It's so pointless getting angry at him. He'll just do what he wants. They're having a full moon ceremony," she added, after a minute. "I forget where they're going, exactly, but they have it all planned out. They've clearly been working on this for quite a while."
"Oh, great. A bunch of drunk oozarus stomping around trying to kill each other. Should be fun."
"Should be like our wedding," Nira pointed out. "I trust you're coming so you can protect me from Nappa's side of the family? He has an absolute plethora of low-class brats that are bound to be out-of-control without being drunk."
The thought that he would have to protect Nira, an Elite several times more powerful than he, was inherantly absurd. To his surprise, Miso found himself grinning back at her. Talking to his wife was like that; it somehow put him in a better mood, no matter how cross he had been before. "Eh, maybe it won't be so bad," he said. "What's an errant gene or two? With any luck, she'll keep her wretched X-chromosome to herself and breed real Saiyans. Her father is a noble and an Elite, after all. He's one of the highest ranked fighters on the planet. There's powerful potential in the pairing."
"That's the spirit," Nira said cheerfully. "And we can always sneak into the birthing chambers and pull the plug on any half-developed brat that does carry the taint, eh?"
"You have an evil mind, Nira," said Miso in a delighted tone.
"Well, of course. Just because I'm an Easterner, you keep forgetting I'm also Saiyan."
He grinned at her, feeling almost...emotional. "You keep reminding me."
Nira terminated the conversation with her husband, a small frown replacing the false smile she had maintained for the latter part of their conversation. Baka. You were always too easy to deceive. But Youkan got what he wanted out of this, and that was the important thing. As for the rest...well, she would see what they had to say. Perhaps some sign of her heir had been discovered, this time.
Sighing, she glanced at the ancient timepiece that ticked away over the door to her private chambers. It was early evening on the Southern Continent, but here it was mid-afternoon of the following day, and she had one last appointment to keep. It was petty of her, but she kept them waiting while she paced in her own quarters waiting for the call she knew she would be receiving from Miso. Although the weirdness that afflicted her half-a-century earlier was long since banished from her psyche, the attendant humiliation she felt could still, unexpectedly, crop up with as much force as if everything had happened yesterday. And she had no hesitation in using her position of authority to turn the pain back on those she held responsible...
But not today. Bardock had done her a favor, although it was certainly one that concerned him closely as well, and she would remember that.
Riiki simply would not shut up.
Although she was not speaking out loud, a running litany of slights, real and imagined, were being tallied in his head as she kept up an increasingly-irritated mental list that she was making damn sure bounced off the insides of his skull. He was getting a headache. Serves you right for having anything to do with the little slut! Riiki flung at him.
Excuse me, woman. Do you expect me to refuse my chieftain? And we were planning on doing it, anyway. What the hell is your problem today? Or do I just chalk this up to a jealous rage and ignore it?
Riiki did not appreciate it when he turned his analytical mind to her actions. She let him know that in a barrage of hissing vituperative that the Commander would have been proud of. Bardock winced, acknowledging he had just made a strategic error that was going to earn him days of the silent treatment--which, right now, he would rather welcome.
Riiki's oaths cut off in mid-thought when the door slid back and Chieftain Nira entered the room. Bardock went to one knee in front of her; although he did not look at his wife, he knew from past experience that Riiki was standing in the back of the audience chamber with her arms folded and a carefully-banked glare directed at the floor. "The King's Guards kneel only to the King," was her response when he once tried to remonstrate with her regarding her conduct around Nira; his retort that she gave up her rank with her oath did not play out well. There were some aspects of her old position that the former Captain of the Guards insisted on retaining...especially where Nira was concerned.
"Get up," said Nira in annoyance. She crossed her arms, staring at him with a scowl, completely ignoring the figure standing passively behind him. "Anything?"
"Nothing concrete, although I think I have a line on him," replied Bardock. "The trail leads outside of Saiyan space, however. If we could get permission to cross the border into King Cold's territory to continue the search there--"
Nira snorted.
"I'm just offering options, my Chief."
"Eh, it's not impossible," she said after a moment. "Cold could care less if a Saiyan or two entered his sector of space; however, I doubt he would allow us enough freedom of movement to conduct an effective search. I'm heading for the capitol to help administer the upcoming tournament; I'll talk to some of the Ministers and see what can be done." She gazed at him, sardonically. "I suppose your 'eldest' will be participating in that, eh?"
There was a growl so menacing from Riiki that Bardock was afraid for a moment it was a verbal, not mental, venting of her frustration. "Radditz will be, yes," replied Bardock, his voice cool and slightly reproachful. He had the satisfaction of seeing the color suddenly rise in Nira's face; she knew the snide remark uncalled for. He looked at her carefully; there were lines of tension bracketing her mouth. "Is there anything else I can help with, my Chief?"
She looked away, grimacing. "My youngest is marrying one of Nappa's brats. Not much anyone can do for that."
"Our condolences," came Riiki's rough voice from the back.
"Oh, marrying outside their class is a characteristic of Easterners, warrior," said Nira, coldly. "In fact, I understand mating outside the species is beginning to be popular. At least my son is wedding something Saiyan."
"I would not dare criticize Kakarott for marrying an Earthling, not when the King himself has seen fit to," spit Riiki.
"Kakarott?" repeated Nira quizzically. "I was not referring to... Ah, you two have been off planet since before the Queen's coronation. She's shaping up to be rather Saiyan, when all's said and done. Considering what we hear of Kakarott and his hybrid offspring, humans may be some sort of Saiyan offshoot. Kakarott's brat is rumored to be a stunningly powerful child. Something in Bardock's blood, I suppose. All of his sons are much stronger than one would expect." There was a frigid silence, even mentally, from Riiki; closing his eyes, Bardock wished this would be over soon. It was always a mistake to have these two in the same room. Somehow, he kept forgetting that...
Then, mercifully, it was over. "Eh, Radditz may have his uses," said Nira, dismissively. "He has Zarbon's ear, and they say Zarbon was a favorite of Lord Freeza's. If his 'friendship' can bring me into contact with my heir, then this peculiar fashion for alien mates may be advantageous." Nira nodded at him in curt dismissal. It took all of Bardock's will-power to keep from running out of the audience chamber.
"It's pointless for you to be going through with this," said Shiruko.
Youkan looked at his older brother in amusement and irritation. He came to the capital after his fight with their father to train and prepare for the tournament. He was staying in his brother's quarters on the Palace grounds, trying not to show the sense of awe he felt at living within the Imperial sphere. "You don't think I can do it? I've done very well in the lead-in tourneys. As long as I don't get killed, I should get in. And it's not like there's only one opening and we all need to kill each other to get it. There's so many right now, there's a wonder enough Elites exist on Vejiitasei to fill them all. This will probably be the least bloody tournament in many a year," he added, not without a certain regret.
"Moron," snapped Shiruko. "The Commander knows you claim to be bonded." The word came out sounding as if it hurt his brother's throat. Youkan understood; the first time he said it, he felt as if he might faint from the shock of hearing it from his own mouth. It grew easier to say with repetition; he was beginning to be proud of his lack of reaction to it, in fact. "He'll be at the King's side during the bouts. Do you think he'll fail to mention it? However happy he may be at getting a noble to wed one of his misbegotten brats, he still knows his duty. He will tell the King, and the King will have no use for you. You're wasting your time, little brother."
"It's my time to waste." After eyeing his brother's scowling expression, Youkan glanced away and asked, with exaggerated casualness, "Have you seen the King and Queen together? Do you think they're bonded?"
"Don't be absurd. Even if such a thing existed -- and it doesn't, baka, as much as you delude yourself otherwise -- they are not. I was on duty in the King's Quarters with Chishan the night of the Battle of Succession. Zarbon waltzed in there after the King gave express orders no-one was to be admitted, then waltzed out later with nary a mark and a smarmy smirk on his face. He's still around the King more than anyone else, including the Earth woman. If the King's bonded to anyone, it's him. And I suppose you heard about the blow-up in the throne room last week."
"I've heard rumors," admitted Youkan. "All anyone has where the Queen is concerned are rumors. Hardly anyone's even seen the Queen, outside the vids of her coronation."
"Eh, she's nothing to look at. I doubt she has a muscle on her entire body. And no tail."
"What happened?" prompted Youkan as Shiruko scowled at his own thoughts.
"Oh, she burst in, during audience hours mind you, and started screaming at the King. I didn't understand a damn word. She has very idiomatic Standard at best, and she was talking fast on top of it. The King started smirking. I thought he was going to blast her, and that would be the end of it. Then he hopped down the dais and starting screaming back! And damned if I couldn't understand half of what he said, either. It was the most bizarre thing I've even seen."
"What was the matter?"
"Some problem with the Engineering slaves," Shiruko said, vaguely. "The King sent Zarbon to talk to the Minister of Personnel, so I suppose it's all worked out now. But it put Vegeta in such a mood for the rest of the day. His eyes were so bright I thought he had a fever, he kept popping out of the throne like he couldn't sit still, and his tail just wouldn't stop lashing. He looked like he'd come off a good hunt or something. What are you grinning about?"
"Nothing," said Youkan, hastily. "I've just been thinking about my chances in the tourney, that's all. If nothing else, I should get a good fight or two, eh? That alone will make it worthwhile."
"Zarbon," the Minister of Personnel said to Vegeta's aide, "This is insane."
The alien gave one of those charming, impersonal smiles that could mean anything from total agreement to complete indifference. "Insane or not," he responded, "it is what the Queen requires. The King is tired of hearing about it; all he requires is that this is taken care of quickly. Very, very quickly."
The Minister found an involuntary smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. He had been among those who, after the planet continued on its path about the binary suns and the continents remained fixed rather than bucking in supernatural revulsion over the King's callous disregard for a millennium of tradition, breathed a sigh of relief and thought that the worst was over. The Queen's fit had caught him and just about everyone else in the Palace off guard; it had not even phased the King or the King's aide. Clearly there was more fire in the creature than anyone else had yet witnessed; clearly there were more changes in store for Vejiitasei itself. Living planetside might become as interesting as being in the off-world forces. Then he looked down at the data screen again, and scowled. The Minister of Finance was not going to like this... "Feh," he grunted. "If the slaves in Engineering aren't performing up to task, just kill 'em and replace 'em. Freeing them makes no sense. And these compensation packages the Queen is insisting on...! If they are worth this much to her, why is she letting them go?"
"The Queen's stand on this," Zarbon reminded him, patiently, "is that slavery stifles creativity and initiative." He grinned again at the Minister's incredulous stare. "Yes, I know, hardly qualities one wants in a slave; but qualities the Queen insists are necessary for her engineers."
"Does she expect they will remain? Two-thirds will take off for where-ever they came from as soon as the paperwork is complete!"
"It is not my place," said Zarbon, still pleasantly but with a faint warning underlying his words, "to wonder what either the Queen or the King 'expect,' Minister."
It wasn't but a couple of generations ago, the Minister thought sourly, that Zarbon himself would have been a slave. Actually, probably not; whether trained to tap their power or not, high ki slaves were dangerous. More likely he would have been terminated as soon as he had been born or sprouted or hatched or what-ever it was his polyglot species did to reproduce. Grimacing, he tapped in the code that set his seal on the data screen's information, thankful that Zarbon would be the one to deal with the explosion about to come out of the Minister of Finance's office, not he.
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