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Goku stood at the circular port window, watching the bright, colorful dot that was Vejiitasei become more like a ball, knowing it would soon fill his entire vision. Must be the 'orange' time of year, he thought, recalling his brother's comments about the vivid, variable cloud cover of his native planet.
Their native planet.
For an instant, muscles tensed along his jaw. Carefully Goku forced himself to relax. He was not Saiyan, he reminded himself. Vejiitasei was just where he happened to be born. Earth was his home. Their home. The home of his real family; his wife and father-in-law, his son. And of his extended family: Yamcha, Puaru, the Briefs. He would do anything to protect them. This (he was sure) un-Saiyan urge to guard those he cared about was the main reason he embarked on this strange journey; for the first human he met after the death of the old man who raised him. He had come here for Bulma, and for Bulma's child.
His journey was not without opposition. While Kami had been ambivalent--Goku thought there was something inherent in being God that made plain speaking difficult--his other-worldly sensei was not so reticent. "Are you crazy?!" Kaiou-sama screamed at him, his normally-curved feelers straightened in indignation.
"Chi-chi thinks we should go," Goku mumbled as he studied his feet, knowing that, while strictly speaking that was the truth, there was also an unexpected pull within himself toward the journey.
"And who wears the pants in your family, you or your wife?"
"We both wear pants," Goku pointed out after a moment of contemplation. "You don't." He looked down at the floor-length robe that completely encased Kaiou-sama's rotund body. "Do you?"
Which provoked his sensei into one of those strange dancing-like fits he was prone to when upset. It ended with Kaiou-sama washing his hands of the entire situation before warping back to his native dimension. And led to that over-bright comment of "Sounds like fun!" to Chi-chi that, had she been less concerned about prying Gohan away from Piccolo, she might have realized was forced.
They were all getting jittery as they approached the planet. Chi-chi wasn't comfortable with the entire gravity issue and, although she had spent hours in the pressurized chamber trying to get used to the harness, complained that she felt like she was wading through a snow drift no matter how they fiddled with the machine's fine tuning. The further the Capsule Corporation space ship got from the threat she perceived Piccolo to be, the more she began to consider what a danger the Saiyans might be. It was making her very snappy as they approached the planet that was their final objective.
What were we thinking when we brought Gohan along? wondered Goku as he stared sightlessly through the view port. He had felt a small shiver of alarm when Bulma mentioned 'other' family, abruptly remembering how he ended up on Earth, what Saiyans did to their children, why it was Bulma wanted someone who wasn't Saiyan present before she told Vegeta she was pregnant. After reminding himself that the treaty meant the Saiyans were no real threat to his son or his wife, he all but banished his unease, again looking forward to the adventure that awaited them. When the ship slowed to enter the system, however, Goku was overcome with a rarely-felt sense of apprehension. It brought him, almost involuntarily, to stare at the planet that held no trace in his memories.
Goku felt a small warmth close around some of the fingers of one loose-hanging hand. Standing on tip-toe, Gohan stared solemnly through the view-port at the planet. They were close enough to see the cloud cover begin to resolve into discrete bands, the cover so thin it was nearly yellow at the equator, so thick it was dark, burnt reds at the poles. Glancing down, Goku saw the violent colors reflect in his son's large, somber eyes.
"So many kis," the little boy murmured. "All so--wrong."
Brushing one of his rough thumbs against the back of Gohan's hand for comfort, Goku nodded. All living things had energy, but on Earth most of the organisms were so over-shadowed by the few powerful beings on the planet their spiritual signatures became a kind of constant background static, easy to tune out. Vejiitasei, however, had a distorted aura that could be felt from a distance. Bulma's weak ki would be completely masked. Even finding Chi-chi might be a challenge for him. I'll have to make sure none of us get lost. "Are you ready for this?" he asked Gohan.
"I've finished all my home work for this week," replied Gohan.
Gohan worked diligently on his workbooks throughout the journey. Some of the thick tomes were filled with symbols that made Goku's head hurt just looking at them. "That wasn't what I meant," Goku said, gently.
"We've been training in the gravity chamber," said the little boy. "It won't be a problem for us. Even Mom's gotten used to the belt. Well..." Gohan paused, considering his mother's behavior in the ship's gravity room. "She's less jumpy about it. A little."
"Gohan."
The grip against his fingers tightened. Then the little hand fell away. Gohan stared at the rapidly-approaching planet, his face grim. "I was so angry last time," he said. "I would have killed him. I don't want to kill people, Daddy."
Vegeta. It's still Vegeta with him. "Don't worry about him. We're just going to visit Bulma and help her with the baby. Babies are fun, Gohan."
Gohan seemed fixated at the angry colors shrouding the planet. "It's not safe for babies here," he said, distantly. "There's death all over. Not life. This is an evil place, Daddy."
Goku, feeling the same twisted, black power beat against him as they approached Vejiitasei, could not form another comforting response after that.
For all that it was called the Central Continent, the land mass that hosted Vejiitasei's capitol was not on the planet's midsection. The designation referred to its location between the four major bodies of land that encircled it, with the other continents taking their titles from their positions relative to it. The 'Southern' Continent was mostly equatorial , with only the lower third actually extending into the planet's southern hemisphere. Alien scientists who cared about such things speculated that the five continents had been one single land mass within recent geological time; the Saiyan authorities possessed so little curiosity about their planet's pre-Saiyan history that permits to take samples or do studies were routinely denied.
Vejiitasei's continual cloud cover was less dense at the equator, giving the Southern Continent a gentle glow, golden this time of the year. Clearly deciding to act upon Bulma's pallor, Vegeta brought his mate to the place that received the most direct light from the binary stars, just in case her ailment was related to solar deprivation. Bulma was quickly installed in the royal bed chamber at the Southern Palace--and 'installed,' thought Radditz, was the correct word. Vegeta hauled her here like an inert piece of machinery. The King then banished the domestic slaves, throwing open the doors and windows himself that led to the outside world, ripping down the thick draperies, trying to let as much solar radiation into the protective gravity bubble as he could. Bulma murmured that he could just rig up a sun lamp, but did not have much else to offer. In truth, the Queen's condition still appeared precarious to the never-ill Saiyans. She was not recovering from her collapse, remaining a curious combination of physically listless and verbally combative. Radditz was cursing himself for not pressing Mrs. Briefs more strongly on what-ever she knew about her offspring's condition.
Despite his obvious concern for his mate -- or perhaps because of it -- Radditz felt the King was not helping. At first Vegeta refused to allow anyone else into the private suite of rooms within the Royal quarters. Even Zarbon was left in the outer chambers, where he spent most of his time either staring at the closed door or sitting at the the communication center, soothing ruffled diplomatic feathers as he offered official apologies (but no explanations) or fielded inquires after the Queen's health and (more important to most of Vejiitasei's allies) how her unexpected illness would affect wider distribution of the capsule technology.
The sound-proofing of the inner compartments proved insufficient in completely blanking out the King's irate words. Indistinct syllables would penetrate to the outer chambers, unintelligilbe to most of the the Saiyan guards but an indication that Vegeta was shouting at decibel levels that threatened his vocal chords with irreparable harm. Radditz glanced toward Zarbon as another barrage of noise filtered through the sealed door, seeing the involuntary flinch that made him wonder if Vegeta's liaison was picking up more than just disjoined sounds. Suddenly Zarbon cut off the high-ranking alien ambassador he was speaking with, getting to his feet and heading for the inner chambers with a determined expression on his face. Oh, great, thought Radditz in irritation even as he moved to intercept Zarbon. Before he had gone two steps, however, the door slid open. Vegeta stomped through, his face patches of red and white, the pulse in his temple visibly pounding. "'Stupid?'" spat the Queen's voice through the opening. "You want 'stupid?' I'll give you 'stupid,' you rat-tailed sonova--!"
The door slid closed. Zarbon looked down into Vegeta's distorted, snarling visage and offered, "She seems stronger."
Vegeta growled, brushing past the alien. His gaze crossed Radditz's. "You talk to her!" Vegeta snapped at him. "You understand human females!" The King strode out of the room. Zarbon gave him a long-suffering look before following the King.
Maybe what she has is catching, thought Radditz, because I just developed the mother of all headaches. Resisting the urge to rub his forehead the way Zarbon did when stressed, he ignored the quizzical expressions of the other guards as he went into the inner chambers to try and pry information out of his Queen.
Chishan wanted to wring his hands, a reaction so un-Saiyan it made him feel like a traitor to his species. The information he had gathered in the sleepless night, however, made it clear where the blame for the accident lay. He stood in the capitol's main communications center awaiting his King's pleasure as he mentally went over his report again and again. When the viewscreen snapped on, he was presented with an over-sized, scowling Vegeta that glared at him with menace. Zarbon was, as ever, slightly behind the King. "Well?" the liaison asked. "Did you determine who was at fault for the containment unit failure?"
"I wouldn't call it 'fault,'" replied the King's Captain, picking through his much-rehearsed words with an unusual care. "More like 'oversight.' The specifications for the ki-shielded training rooms haven't been updated since your return from Chikyuu, Your Majesty. Those were the specifications the Queen used when she designed the demonstration chamber. And, well--"
"I'm a magnitude or two stronger than I was before my last mission," agreed Vegeta, a flash of humor making his mouth curve. "Heh. Wait until I tell her that. She'll have a fit."
"She'll probably make you stand in a testing chamber for three days while she takes measurements on every possible fluctuation in your power level," said Zarbon, his own mouth twitching.
That squelched the King's momentary good mood. The dark, grim cast descended over his visage again. Chishan ventured, "How is the Queen? Is the Southern Continent to her liking?"
The King snorted. Zarbon's head tipped to the side for a moment, as if considering a response, before saying in a non-committal tone, "She is unchanged, Captain."
"She's as bloody stubborn as ever," snarled Vegeta. "Idiot human."
Chishan blinked. Zarbon prompted, "Do you have any instructions for the Captain, Sire?"
"No," the King stated with flat impatience.
The alien, briefly, started to raise a hand as if to actually touch the King's arm, paused, and dropped it back down. "The King is here," he said to Chishan, finally. "If you are done with your investigation, you should be here as well, Captain."
Chishan felt his back stiffen. "I understand my duty, Zarbon," he snapped.
"I'm glad to hear it," responded the alien in a cool voice. "It's why you were chosen for the position, Chishan."
"Of course," said Chishan more evenly after a moment. "I'll be there within the day, my King." Vegeta gave a bare nod, turning away as the screen went blank. Chishan stood for a moment, feeling oddly as if he were taking orders from the King's liaison and not the King himself, before shaking off the impression and calling to a nearby officer for the schedule of shuttle flights to the Southern Continent.
He couldn't get away from the sensation anywhere anymore. Vegeta leaned back against the communication terminal, folding his arms and looking down as deep creases drew stark lines between his brows. It was here, too. Although he felt it only faintly in this chamber, that strange, curiously unsubstantial ki somehow had followed him to the Southern Continent. Do ghosts travel? But it isn't my father; I'm sure of that now...
"Vegeta, it would help if you pretended to have some interest in what your chief officers were doing," he heard Zarbon's aggrieved voice. Vegeta gave a mental growl of irritation. Hearing Chishan's report was Zarbon's idea; it had 'distraction' written all over it. As if he could be distracted from what was currently disturbing him. What if it was tracking Bulma rather than himself? He had felt the alien ki strongest in the first seconds after Bulma's collapse the day before; he had almost dropped her, the sensation of something else present was so strong. He wondered if her 'illness' were related, if some sort of psychic vampire was feeding off of his mate. The weak human couldn't possibly defend herself against such a threat. "It would also help," said Zarbon, icicles dripping from the frigid words, "if you listened to your liaison once in a while."
"I heard you, baka. Zarbon, has your scouter been doing anything--odd?"
After an instant of consideration, Zarbon said, thoughtfully, "It's been--tetchy. Why do you ask?"
Vegeta felt some of his tension ease. He might be sensitive to a psychic imprint of his father or a psychic attack centered on his mate, but surely a ki-measuring machine wouldn't be. "What's been happening?"
"It's been clicking on for no reason, then just presenting a null reading. Or there's an impression of an energy spike but it's gone before I can get a vector. Some of the guards have been complaining about it. The techs are trying to see if there are atmospheric disturbances or other sources of interference on the Southern Continent." His gaze turned ironic. "I was thinking about getting some non-Saiyan techs working on the problem if it continued."
Vegeta gave a small grunt in acknowledgement.
"You're--'sensing' something as well, then? Hmmm. If you're picking it up, it's not a mechanical malfunction."
"It's almost like the Earth kis," said Vegeta, absently as he considered it. "As if it were something just out of range of my senses."
"I've had a report that the Earth ship is in the system. Perhaps you're reacting to Goku. Unless Bulma's been training in secret and developed a measurable ki," he added with deliberate lightness.
"Bah. Why would I be sensitive to a third-class peasant?" snapped Vegeta. "Something's been hanging around for weeks. I thought it might be my father's ghost for a time."
There was a trace of concern in Zarbon's gaze. "Vegeta," he said gently, "there are no such things as 'ghosts.'"
Vegeta snorted at that. "And according to your kind, there's no such thing as telepathy either," he pointed out, sardonically.
"Whatever 'my kind' may believe in general, Vegeta, I've learned to trust my own experiences. I first met telepaths in Freeza's forces. They don't affect me, thank the gods, but I've seen them utterly destroy others. And you clearly do have some sort of mental ability to sniff out ki without a scouter. However, it doesn't follow that every supernatural superstition is therefore true."
"Spare me your thought processes on the subject. Whether specters exist or not is unimportant. The point is, it is not my father that I've been sensing. Which begs the question: what is it?"
That was the question also troubling Radditz as he stared down at Bulma from the foot of the gigantic royal bed. He thought she might have some of her color back, although with the paint her kind sometimes put on their faces it was hard to tell. She looked as fragile as ever, though, nearly lost among the pillows that (judging from the haphazard arrangement all about the Queen's body) had been tucked around her by Vegeta in an awkward attempt to make her more comfortable. "Are you going to tell anyone what your problem is, or are you just going to die?"
"I thought you were supposed to work for me or something," grumbled Bulma. "Might want to moderate the growling a little bit."
"I'm supposed to do whatever is in your best interests," responded Radditz on an exaggerated growl. "At the cost of my own life, if necessary. If you care so little for yourself or for what this is doing to your mate, perhaps you should consider Chikyuu. What does Vegeta care about that mudball with you gone?"
"Don't be so pessimistic. I'm going to be fine."
"And how do you know if you're going to be 'fine' unless you also know what's wrong with you?"
After a moment, Bulma muttered, "For a race that's supposed to be comprised of total morons, you have pretty good logic processes sometimes."
"I am not your mate, Bulma. You will not distract me with petty bickering or side issues," Radditz informed her. The scouter clicked on. "This better be good," he snapped at the hapless communications officer.
"The transmission you've been waiting for from Chikyuu has come in, Captain. You said to interrupt you when that happened. Shall I put it through there?"
Radditz shook his head; transmissions over scouters were public, and he did not know if what Mrs. Briefs had to say in response to his urgent call should be public. "I'll take it in the Captain's quarters." He gazed stonily at Bulma's hastily-banked expression of relief. "Oh, this is just a reprieve, my Queen." He bowed and turned to leave.
"Wait," said Bulma. "What about Chi-chi and...everyone? Are they going to be able to find me here? You promised to take care of my friends, Radditz."
There was a cold, quiet smirk from Radditz. "I've arranged for them to be met," he promised her, malicious enjoyment just barely coloring his voice. "In fact, I've arranged for them to be entertained. They'll be in good hands, my Queen."
"You worry me when you get like that," said Bulma faintly.
Turning back from the door, Radditz bowed as if she had just paid him a great compliment. Then, against all protocol, he motioned his lieutenants into the room, ordering them to set up a guard within the royal bed chamber until he returned.
It was not quite the honor guard originally planned for the arriving Earth dignitaries. Radditz had summarily ripped all twenty members of the Queen's Guard away to the Southern Palace. The King's Guard were split, some staying behind at the Engineering compound with Chishan, some accompanying Vegeta in spite of his indifference to their presence, most remaining at the main Royal palace in the capitol going about their usual public duties despite the pall cast by the Queen's uncertain health. Chishan, far more concerned with preparing his report, barely remembered to order a squad to meet the aliens. When a couple of Radditz-sanctioned additions showed up at the landing platform outside the Palace, the nonplussed officer in charge of the honor squad had no idea what to do and finally settled for totally ignoring the unexpected newcomers. The two stood at the far edge of the red carpet that stretched from the landing platform near the palace, watching with wooden expressions as a platform descended from the belly of the circular Chikyuu vessel. A single figure stepped off the platform. It stood with grim-set mouth as the platform ponderously rose back towards the craft. There was a sharp, disgusted exhale from one of the recently-arrived warriors.
"Apparently what ever they eat on 'Earth' is growth-stunting," uttered Riiki crossly.
Bardock grinned. "Wrong brat." He cocked an amused eyebrow. "He looked like me in the vids, remember. The resemblance might be more than just the hair."
"You'd never tell this one has any Saiyan in him from the hair."
Or from the clothes, noted Bardock as he gazed at his grandson for the first time. The hair was bad enough; it was totally flat against the boy's skull in a way that Saiyan hair just didn't go; but his outer garments looked completely devoid of any defensive capabilites. The bright gold of the jacket would make the brat an easy target. It was made of cloth far too soft and flexible to have any protective armor encased within it. The boy at least had a disciplined, straight-backed stance, although the lashing tail was the most undisciplined one Bardock had ever seen. Despite Saiyan tendencies in the features, it was painfully obvious something less than Saiyan was also part of him. Then the brat glanced over one shoulder, back up toward the descending platform behind him. There was a trace in the profile that was so -- Riiki -- that Bardock's stomach unexpectedly clenched. It had only done that once before -- the first time he saw a nine-year-old Radditz standing next to his spent baby pod with an expression of cautious bravado as he met his parents for the first time, looking so much like a miniature version of his dam Bardock almost melted on the spot.
He looked beyond the boy at the man and the woman just emerging from the Earth craft, feeling complete indifference as he saw his own features stamped across the male's face.
"Now, Chi-chi; see? He was waiting for us right here," the man was saying in a cheerful tone.
The Earth woman took short, hesitant steps off of the platform, clearly uneasy with her gravity-compensating equipment even though there were back-up systems built into the back-up systems. She was gripping her mate's arm as if he were the only thing keeping her from compressing on the spot. "Gohan, you should have waited for us." Bardock could just catch a glimpse of the gravity harness's high neck peeking out from under the woman's own garments as she bent over the boy; unlike the Queen, then, this Earthling wasn't going to flaunt the apparatus.
The woman fussed with the boy, patting at his hair as if to make it yet flatter, straightening out some unseen imperfection in his garment. "Mom, I'm fine," said the brat, a nervous sharpness to his voice.
"We're all fine," said Kakarott, clearly trying to be soothing. "Look, there's bunches of people to meet us. Let's go say 'hi,' okay?" The woman again latched onto Kakarott's arm as the three turned toward the honor guard and began to make their way down the carpet. Behind them, the platform rose for the next contingent of Earthers to disembark.
Bardock touched the side of his scouter. He raised his brows slightly. According to the reading, his son and grandson were third class warriors with fighting powers that barely registered--certainly not the ki levels the reports from Chikyuu (including the irate one Nappa filed after being drilled by the boy) indicated. He smiled, a slight sardonic flex of his mouth. Well, isn't that...interesting.
Riiki's attention was caught by Kakarott, who was staring back wide-eyed and puzzled. Her expression was anything but welcoming. If anything, a plain look of disappointment was across her face. "Feh," she snorted. "Too short."
Kakarott blinked. "For the King's Guard," Bardock told him, dryly. "The King's personal Elite troops? You wouldn't meet the height requirement. You do have Radditz to continue your line's traditional service there," he reminded Riiki.
"Feh," she snorted again. "He has that made-up position. He'll never be Captain of the King's Guard. Feh. Why are you third class peasants so short? Feh."
"Live with your crushing disappointment, woman," said Bardock, coldly. "I do, don't I? At least someone will carry on your tradition, even if it's not whom you would choose or the way you would choose."
"Feh," grumbled Riiki for the last time before her gaze fixed on Gohan. "Short for his age, too, isn't he?"
"I wouldn't know. The only children I've ever seen have been high-born brats, and those you usually only glimpse from a distance."
"Usually," agreed Riiki, her voice suddenly toneless.
Kakarott raised one hand to the back of his head, smiling nervously. "Um...I should know you two, right?" Hardly were the words out when his face went still, the bemused look shifting into taut lines. "You're them," said Kakarott. "The ones that sent me away to Earth." The brat suddenly latched onto his sire's leg, the woman pressed even closer to her mate's side. All three of them stared with near-identical expressions of accusation in their eyes.
What? wondered Riiki's voice inside Bardock's head. You'd think we'd somehow offended them.
Maybe we have... "You overestimate your importance, brat," said Bardock. "We sent you no-where; we've never seen you before. Both of us were off planet when you went on your mission." He gazed across at his adult son sardonically, down at the round-eyed hybrid clinging to the loose material of his father's garment. "Which clearly did not go as planned."
Kakarott's gaze hardened, but something in the words made the woman stir. Kakarott's mate looked up at Kakarott, her dark, thin brows creasing together. "We have to get to Bulma," she said.
"Agreed," said Kakarott, and there was a very grim tone to his voice. "Where is she?"
"Not here," replied Bardock. "The King took her to the palace on the Southern Continent. Arrangements have been made to take you there tomorrow. Radditz thought you might like to spend some time with your adoring parents first."
"You'll have to let the 'adoring parents' know we're here first," Kakarott's brat abruptly spat out, venom in his voice.
Ah, there's some Saiyan in you after all, thought Bardock, pleased.
But Kakarott murmured, reproachfully, "Gohan," and the little boy ducked his head and mumbled a sincere-sounding apology to the pavement, one no true Saiyan would have uttered. Feh, growled Riiki in his mind. No hope for either of them.
You have no patience, woman, Bardock growled back. What he said to the strangers who stood before him was, "We've been told to show you around the compound. Come."
Here was a logistical problem they hadn't worked out; who got 'the' Captain's quarters in the Southern palace when there were two Captains. Something for the King's liaison to deal with when Chishan gets here, thought Radditz with a touch of malice. I'm stuck dealing with a couple of stubborn Earth women. Right now, the diplomatic corp is looking better than I ever thought it could...
"She fainted?" Bra clasped her delicate little hands under her chin, looking worried. "Oh, dear. I never did that, although I did stand up a little too fast every now and again."
"Not 'fainted,' Bra," replied Radditz, his lip curling on the word. "Collapsed. Utterly. She's refused to go into the tank, even though it's very clear something's wrong with her."
"'Tank?' Like what you were in?" Radditz gave a single, curt nod. "Well, I can understand that," said Mrs. Briefs, her voice reflective. "I'm sure she thought it was bad for--" She cut herself off, appearing distressed.
Radditz snapped, "No more games, woman. The Queen is ill, yet she refuses aid. Even here, where we have tanks within the gravity field, she is hysterical at the thought of going into one. What does she have to fear from the tank?"
"Bulma," said Mrs. Briefs, slowly, as if each word had to pass inspection before being uttered, "would not have anything to fear for herself."
"Bra," rumbled Radditz, warningly.
"I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone on Vejiitasei, Radditz. But I've given you a time line, I've told you that she's more concerned for someone else than for herself--what more do you need?" There was a blank stare. "Radditz," said Mrs. Briefs in atypical irritation, "she wouldn't be going into the tank alone. Does that help?" Another blank stare. "How dense are Saiyans? I'm really going to have to break my promise. I don't like doing that, Radditz."
There was one moment of disbelief so utter that Radditz thought he might faint. But the impossible suddenly grinded into his mind and refused to be dislodged. "She's conceived?" Radditz gaped, incredulous with shock. "Wait--she's been gravid for weeks? What is she thinking? What were you thinking, not to tell me this!?"
"I told you nine months. Why are you so surprised? Are gestations times that different? Oh, don't tell me they're longer; Bulma wouldn't like that!"
"How the hell would I know something like 'gestation times?!'" Radditz shrieked at her. "Even if I had offspring, I wouldn't see it for ten years after conception, and that only if it survived its mission! Gravid... Great Kami, we're going to have to get it out of her soon, aren't we? Or is it too late for that? She can't possibly mean to--" He fought off a wave of revulsion -- "to have it? That's--that's--" He paused for breath, and realized there was no Standard word repugnant enough. He stared helplessly at Bra.
"Radditz, I almost hate to ask, but what do women do there when they get pregnant? Bulma has absolutely refused to discuss it with me."
"They put the brats in tanks to mature, of course," snapped Radditz, still struggling to regain his composure.
"Well, why would they do that? It's not especially difficult for Saiyan women to carry babies to term, is it?"
Radditz's abruptly lost the battle with his composure. "I don't know!" he screamed, waving his arms madly to demonstrate just how out of his depth he was. "It's dangerous, or incapacitating, or inconvenient, or something, isn't it!? Females who get too pregnant just can't do anything! Can they?"
"Radditz; really. No need to get all spikey," Mrs. Briefs scolded. "The medical team is arriving today. If Bulma isn't feeling well, just get them to her. Then Bulma can decide what's best for the baby."
"Medical-- The other Earthlings? She said she wanted her friends, but that's what she meant, not Kakarott and his hell-spawned family unit! Dammit. I have to go," he told Mrs. Briefs tersely.
"Wait! Is Bulma going to be--?"
Terminating the transmission, Radditz called communications, ordering them to put him through to Chishan immediately.
Gohan looked around with ever-widening eyes, while Goku muttered things like: 'Yeah, that's nice,' between repeated requests to know where the Southern Continent was, how long it would take to get there, could he just fly under his own power? Chi-chi reminded him not to be rude, but as she was taken through the dark stone interior of Bulma's new home, she felt as if she had warped into some sort of sienna-colored horror movie. The sense of ominous foreboding intensified when she regarded their guides. Riiki looked like something out of a horror movie; unmarked, even attractive features on one side, a tangle of ill-healed flesh visible whenever she turned her head to address Chi-chi. And she couldn't bear to gaze at him--Goku's face with hard eyes, that awful cut across the cheek that must have nearly taken his jaw off when it happened. He had hardly spoken to them, looking back instead with increasing interest at the medical team. The guides assigned to the scientists and doctors were having a difficult time of it since the questions the other members of the Earth contingent asked were technical ones the Saiyans seemed hard-pressed to answer. Chi-chi thought her father-in-law -- strange to think of having a father-in-law after so many years of believing Goku orphaned -- might have preferred to be stuck with the strangers that weren't blood relations rather than the strangers that were.
They were debating where to take them next, Riiki opting for the Hall of Warriors, Bardock trying to insist on the Hall of Machines, when all the Saiyans around them snapped to rigid attention. Thinking perhaps Vegeta had unexpectedly showed up, Chi-chi turned her head to demand of Bulma's husband where her friend was. The person standing before the little party, however, was not Vegeta.
Facial scars seemed to be a fashion statement, thought Chi-chi. First Gohan's fierce-looking grandparents, and now this young man with the Radditz-like hair. There was a deep-set slash that intersected one eye, which, decided Chi-chi, he must have come close to losing. Thinking of some of the wounds Goku survived with nary a mark made Chi-chi abruptly feel a little queasy. Anything that damaged a Saiyan to the point of inflicting permanent scars had to be a life-threatening wound. She dropped a protective hand to her son's shoulder, wondering if there was a coming-of-age tradition involving sharp implements that she should have known about before coming here.
"More family?" queried Goku out loud, sounding a little harried.
Gohan looked far, far up, seeing the squared line of the jaw, the broad forehead. "He looks like that guy that hurt Mr. Piccolo," he said. "With hair."
The dark, angular eyes narrowed. "And you must be the 'little warrior' that nearly killed my father," he said. He smiled, an unamused display of teeth. "I'm much better looking than Nappa, brat. I'm Chishan, Captain of the King's Guard," he told them, his impersonal gaze divided equally between Chi-chi and Goku. "Your presence has been upgraded in priority. I'm to get all of you to the Queen using one of the King's shuttles. And I'm to do it fast. I hope you have strong stomachs."
"Wait," objected the warrior who claimed to be Goku's father in a voice that was too-disturbingly similar to that of her husband. "Captain, we were promised some time with our offspring."
"I have no orders regarding you," Chishan said, indifferently, although others in the group looked at Bardock askance, as if amazed that he dared raise his voice. "If there's enough room in the shuttle and you aren't scheduled to report someplace else, come along."
The Earth woman was very particular about her offspring. She had to be reassured--and reassured often--that a craft powerful enough to require strong stomachs of Saiyan warriors would not be harmful to her little boy. How fragile are these creatures? Riiki demanded of Bardock. They panic at a few Gs, they think sudden stops might kill them unless they're properly restrained--unbelievable. How did such a pathetic species evolve to this stage?
Easy, Riiki. They can't help their genes. Well, I suppose that's no excuse where Kakarott's concerned, but he was raised in only a single G. Infants with missions on lower gravity planets always take a while to adjust. Contain your disappointment.
I had resigned myself, Riiki grumbled back to him. But then I heard this one survived, and that he was strong, strong enough to spar with Vegeta, so I had hope again. She glanced at the too-short tail-less thing that was her son, twisting her mouth in irritation at the reading the scouter fed back to her. Vegeta must've been weakened by mating hormones, she mentally spat. A mid-ranked third class domestic guard could take him on--!
Riiki. There was rebuke mixed with rare impatience in Bardock's comment. Of all the Saiyans, off world and on, you know better than that. Then there was a brief pause, as Bardock looked narrow-eyed at Gohan, who had been regarding the two unblinkingly since clambering into the shuttle. Hsst. There's something strange about that one. I wonder if he can hear us?
Now who's being absurd?
But as if the little hybrid could hear them, he suddenly started fingering the controls on his restraining harness. "What are you doing?" demanded Chi-chi in alarm.
"I want to talk to my grandmother."
Shut up, Riiki snarled as Bardock, a slight smirk against his mouth, mentally howled. 'Grandpa.'
"You can talk to her from here," Chi-chi sternly told her son.
"Mom," the little boy said in a complaining tone. Chishan, amused, assured the woman that, as long as her offspring returned to his seat before landing, he would be fine during flight. He waited until the brat had unstrapped and was striding toward Riiki before adding, maliciously, "Assuming we don't hit any air pockets, of course."
Ignoring the sudden yip of alarm from his mother, the brat planted himself in front of Riiki, gazing up at her with eyes unlike those of any Saiyan child. "What happened to you?" asked Gohan, touching the side of his own face.
"Gohan," the brat's dam said reprovingly, but Kakarott's gaze rested steadily on her and Riiki thought he wanted to know as well. Judging from their unmarked faces, she thought scornfully, it was not as if they had any notable battles to share. Human trainers were probably like that over-fastidious Zarbon, so terrified of 'flaws' they threw their charges into tanks with every little scratch. Little wonder Vegeta is barely Saiyan... "I tangled with someone I shouldn't have tangled with, brat."
"Wasn't there a tank?" persisted Gohan. "Mr. Zarbon put Uncle Radditz in a tank, and it made him better."
"There's no shame in battle scars," shrugged Riiki. "In any case, these were inflicted by my King. I would not presume to erase the evidence of any wounds he honored me with."
Gohan demanded hotly, his little fists clenching, "Vegeta did this to you?!"
Riiki regarded him quizzically through the strange blip on her scouter. "You're wasting your indignation," she told him, absently, reaching up a hand to check the machine's settings. "It was the current King's late father."
"Why?"
Why, indeed? The late King's refusal to release her from her tenure as Captain was a puzzle, although Bardock always called her a blind idiot on the rare occasions the subject surfaced. "I told him something he didn't want to hear," she answered. "Kings don't like it when you do that. What does it matter? Ancient history, brat. If you don't want to become a historical curiosity yourself, strap in. These things stop fast when they land."
Radditz was waiting for them at the landing platform of the Southern palace. "This place is lots more orange than you told me," Kakarott greeted his brother, cheerfully. "When does it turn green?"
"If you survive the place for six months, you'll see the cloud shift," said Radditz, impatiently. The Queen's Captain was on edge, whether from being in the same space as so many disgraced members of his family or from something else was hard to say. "Are these the medical personnel? The Queen wants them immediately."
"And we want to see her immediately," Chi-chi informed Radditz.
"Then follow me and we'll all be happy," snapped the Queen's Captain, turning on his heel. Bardock and Riiki started to fall in with the entourage, but Chishan fixed them with a hard stare and gave his head a minute shake; he was not allowing them into the palace until he talked with the King (or at least Zarbon) about their status. The former Captain gave him a brutal glare that should have incinerated him on the spot, but she could not defy him. Scowling mightily, Riiki charged up, announced she was going to go hunting, and sped away. After a thoughtful gaze at the disappearing backs of his sons, Bardock followed her.
It seemed to Chishan that the Earthlings swarmed over the Queen as soon as they saw her. First Kakarott's mate squealed in distress, telling Bulma she was too pale, too thin, flinging herself onto the bed next to the other woman. Steady, came Radditz's mental command, holding his warriors in place when they instinctively started to move to avenge the insult. Kakarott and the hybrid stopped just inside the door, obvious concern across their faces. The entourage split around them, converging on the Queen with a startling intensity and oneness of purpose. Is this a ritual? wondered Chishan, astonished both at the boldness of the Earthlings and Radditz's lack of response to their aggressiveness after he had nearly challenged the King himself the day before. There were popping sounds everywhere, as the newcomers produced and expanded capsules into bizarre-looking devices that all immediately centered on the Queen. There was another wave of motion from the Guards. "Steady," said Radditz, out loud this time, although his mouth was twisted and the undertone in the single word could be best described as disgusted.
"You're really dehydrated," one of the med-techs said in disapproval, pinching the flesh of the Queen's arm, his face analytical.
"I've been drinking tons," the Queen protested. "Mind you, it doesn't seem to be going anywhere, if you know what I mean..."
There were 'hmmms' of interest at that. "Let's see what happens with intravenous solutions," suggested the med-tech, tapping the inside of the arm he had just pinched. He reached into a monstrous black bag that had been in one of the capsules, pulling out a clear fluid-filled bag with tubing attached. There was a ripping noise. Chishan found his jaw swinging open as the med-tech started to pierce the Queen's flesh with some sort of -- thing. He risked an accusatory glance at Radditz, but the Queen's Captain was watching grimly, mouth pressed tightly as if he were having trouble containing himself as well.
There was a blur of motion, then one of the Earthlings near the Queen levitated. The former King's Guard, Negin, evidently reached the breaking point, grabbing the human by his loose fitting clothes and preparing to toss him aside even as he reached for another one. "Stand down," snapped Radditz.
"President Briefs," the dangling human gargled, "I'm going to find it very difficult to evaluate your condition under these circumstances URK!"
"Let him go," Bulma ordered, her voice stronger than it had been since Vegeta stormed out.
Negin could not disobey the Queen. He opened his clenched fingers, letting the human stagger to the ground, but turned to his Captain with a pleading note in his voice. "Sir--!"
"Believe it or not," Radditz told him, coldly, "the humans know what they are doing. Moreover, they have a very good reason for what they are doing. Do not interfere again unless the Queen requests it."
"You are assuming," said the King from the entryway, his voice sardonic, "the Queen possesses the native intelligence to realize she needs assistance."
There was an undignified noise of disbelief from the bed. "Like Saiyans ask for help with anything," snapped the Queen.
"Hey, Vegeta," said Kakarott with mind-boggling casualness as the King paused by the Earth-Saiyan.
The half-Saiyan brat unexpectedly deserted his post by his father. He stepped between the King and the bed the Queen lay upon, open defiance across his face as he glared at Vegeta.
"Angling for a rematch, hybrid?" queried Vegeta, anticipation sharpening the sardonic expression. For a moment as he smirked down at the little boy, it was as if he completely forgot the presence of his wife. "I am in the market for a trainer, especially if Bulma's toy can't work without blowing up half the capitol. Interested in auditioning for the post?"
Chi-chi spoke from the bed, sharply. "Gohan. We're guests here. That's no way to act. Where are your manners? You've been behaving like a hoodlum since we've landed!"
"Have you, brat?" Vegeta smiled. Dangerously. "Something in the air, perhaps?"
Unbelievably, the hybrid ignored the King to speak over his shoulder to his mother, his own tone determined. "We're not guests. We have a job to do here. We have to protect Bulma and the baby."
"Oy," said Kakarott, one hand suddenly going to the back of his head, looking very uncomfortable. "Gohan's, that's not--" He tipped his head to stare down at the profile of the King next to him. "Oy," he mumbled again, helplessly.
Bulma started with, "Gohan, I don't need protection from--" Then she stopped as well, as if something in the King's tightening face alarmed her. "Vegeta," she said, weakly, "no fighting. Remember the treaty."
"I can flatten him," snapped the brat with a bravado that would, normally, be both laudable and the probable final statement of his short life.
It was as if Vegeta did not hear the taunt. The King's attention completely sundered from Gohan. He slowly raised his gaze from the hybrid to his mate, staring, the shock plain across his sharp-angled features. Then all expression shut down. Pivoting, the King of Vejiitasei strode out of the room.
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