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"I'm not going," Puaru said.
"Aw, come on," Yamcha pleaded. His tone turned wheedling. "I'm making dim sum..."
Puaru glared at his roommate. "I'm likely to become dim sum, Yamcha. Besides, I thought Chi-chi agreed to do the cooking."
"She's whipping up some of Goku's favorite things, yes. Mrs. Briefs has this idea that if we feed the Saiyans just the right combination of foodstuffs they'll fall forever under our sway and we can rule the universe through their insatiable appetites." Yamcha arched his neck and cackled demonically.
Puaru's whiskers pulled back.
Yamcha pointed an accusing finger. "That was a grin."
"I do not 'grin,' Yamcha." Puaru sighed. "Oh, all right. But if just one Saiyan shows up, I'm hiding. Especially if it's the big guy from the infirmary. That's final!"
Sitting on the regeneration tank's steps leaning against its hard exterior, Zarbon listened with half an ear as another air-car went overhead. A few people had already arrived for the party, probably to help prepare. He might give the natives a quick thrill by putting in an appearance, but he was in a far from festive mood. Although Radditz was responding well to treatment, Zarbon didn't want to leave him alone, half-fearing what the natives in their naive curiosity might do to the Saiyan next, still remembering the shock he felt when he first saw Radditz, easily sixty pounds underweight and hooked up to the most hideous devices Zarbon had ever seen. And then that strange little man played with the controls and wandered off, leaving Radditz conscious and in pain. Zarbon was not going to let that happen again.
I'll have to let Sashoki know I'm not 'beyond angry' with her any more. I would have never recognized all those tubes as being at all helpful; I would have come planetside and gotten myself killed. And I'm always after Vegeta to calm down!
The thought, unfortunately, brought to mind Vegeta's sudden, peculiar, and apparently involuntary attempts to eradicate him. Having the Foreseen One almost blast you to atoms was enough ruin anyone's party mood, thought Zarbon dryly as he glanced at his burned palms, although his main concern was for Vegeta. What ails the boy? he wondered, momentarily forgetting that Vegeta was a decade into Saiyan adulthood. It can't be Bulma; he hadn't met her the first time he tried to off me. Although if he's hormonal all the sudden, that could affect his control... But after being with Vegeta through three moons, the last just a year ago, Zarbon knew the Prince didn't go through the same involuntary hormonal reaction that cursed Radditz.
Then Zarbon grinned at himself, mockingly. You're an idiot, warrior. You don't have to be in rut to get 'hormonal' over someone you find attractive. Radditz comes on to you all the time; he just gets a bit more sappy when the moon's out. After all, Zarbon, you get hormonal now and again, and no one is ever going to think you're in rut. Chuckling at the thought, he crossed his hands over his stomach and smiled softly. Closing his eyes, he went into a light trance, still listening as the occasional air car swooped by on its way to the main building.
Bulma wanted to hire caterers, but her mother objected. "Just because we're rich doesn't mean we can't cook," Mrs. Briefs said. Speak for yourself, was Bulma's cross thought; cooking would never be her strong suit. But it was certainly Chi-chi's. Goku's wife came armed with the largest pots and pans Bulma ever saw, some of which were too tall to even fit on the conventional stove in the Briefs' kitchen, leading Chi-chi to promptly annex the industrial one a couple of buildings over used to prepare the employees' meals. "How many Saiyans?" Chi-chi asked, her tone prosaic.
"Zarbon doesn't think we're going to get any. I'm not sure he even passed the invite on."
"That still leaves Goku and Gohan." Chi-chi put on another pot to boil water for rice. "What about that no-good brother-in-law of mine?"
It took a minute for Bulma to realize she meant Radditz. "He's still unconscious. Zarbon said it'll be a couple of days yet before he's up and about."
"Goku was going to see him tonight. I think I'll pop by once everything's set up. If he's awake, I have a few things I want to say to him."
Bulma looked at her with some alarm. "Don't fight with him, Chi-chi. He beat up Goku and Piccolo pretty good."
Chi-chi gave her sweetest, most determined smile. "Exactly what I want to talk to him about. And there's that little matter of taking Gohan without permission."
Yikes, thought Bulma in dismay. But her next carefully-worded warning was interrupted when Yamcha's voice was heard calling her name. "In here," she called back.
Puaru floated into the kitchen first, holding back the swinging door as Yamcha, his arms filled with bamboo baskets and metal containers, staggered in. "Your mom said most of the cooking was happening in here," he greeted Bulma. "Hey, Chi-chi! How's my other favorite girl doing?"
Chi-chi raised a wooden spoon out of the pot she was stirring and waved it at him. "You're a flirt, Yamcha," she told him, sternly, even as she repressed a smile.
Leaning over, he made a smacking noise next to her head. "It's not flirting when it's the truth. Where's Goku? You given up on him yet?"
Laughing, Chi-chi returned to her cooking. "He's around, I think."
Yamcha, beginning to unload his various burdens onto the counter, tipped his head back for a minute and grinned. "Yep, he sure is. So; I'm doing shrimp and pork dumplings. Do I get a corner of the stove for steaming?"
Chi-chi gave him a very hard look. "I'm making the spring rolls," she warned.
"Of course you are!" Yamcha's eyes were wide and innocent. "I'm just doing the little doughy stuff, Chi-chi." And, in back of him, Puaru hastily removed a package of rectangular shapes from one of the bamboo steamers and passed it off to Bulma.
Sighing, Bulma put it behind her back. "I'm going to go see what Mom's up to," she said. "I'll be back in a bit."
About an hour before the official start of the party, Zarbon's scouter beeped on, shaking him out of his trance. Looking at the energy signature playing across the lens, Zarbon gave a little sardonic smile. My friend who likes team sports. Big surprise. Yamcha had tripped his scouter a few times by lurking near the compound; the party would give the Earth warrior an excuse to come onto the grounds without endangering the truce. Zarbon tapped the scouter off and settled once more against the tank. The scouter clicked on again. Frowning, Zarbon looked at a reading that did not seem familiar, then another, then a third. He sat up straight, wondering what the hell the Earthlings were trying to pull, and tried to get a directional vector on any of the new warriors.
He did not have to look far. The scouter insisted two of the readings, both first class warrior levels, were right on top of him. He glanced toward the door just as a small figure stepped into it. A small boy wearing a bright, golden jacket with delicate embroidery covering the front looked at him solemnly from under straight bangs. "Hi," he said, his voice quiet and prepared.
Zarbon stared at the hatchling, not believing the reading. The child looked far too young to sustain a power level of...
Wild hair tied back under a white scrap of cloth, tiny arms stretching out as far as they would go, an escalating ki that seemed too much for the small body to contain, "Magic Flash!"
"Hullo, little warrior," Zarbon said softly. He drew one knee up and rested a forearm across it, flexing his fingers -- just in case. "My, don't you clean up nicely. And you changed your hair."
"Mom cut it," said the boy matter-of-factly. "She thinks it's in the way if it gets too long." After regarding him gravely, "You look pretty tonight," the child said.
Zarbon smiled at that. "You're going to be a charmer when you grow up." If you grow up. "Just passing by, little warrior, or is there something I can do for you?"
"I came to see my uncle," the boy said.
"He's probably at the main house with the rest of the guests," Zarbon told him.
The child shook his head, and pointed to the tank behind Zarbon. "My uncle Radditz," he said.
The blue man was surprised. Nothing showed in his face or eyes, but Daddy had been talking to him about auras, and Gohan could see the emotion surrounding the adult in a way he couldn't explain. And he was suspicious as well. "I'm not a liar," Gohan told him, a little indignantly.
"Oh, I'm sure someone who can do what you did to Nappa is all truth and beauty." The blue man sounded like he wanted to laugh. "And I think I have you to thank for that concussion of mine as well? I was trying to get out of the way of something else, and I wasn't paying proper attention, I'm afraid." The adult was beginning to look closely at him, and Gohan could see the doubt edging in. "I swear, I keep seeing Saiyans everywhere on this planet," the man complained. "All you humans need are tails, and half of you would fit right in."
Gohan said, "I have a tail," and flicked it around to the front of his body.
Sheer astonishment radiated from the man--and, Gohan thought, this time he could tell by looking at the face. "Where did you have that tucked away before?"
"I lost it," said Gohan, "but it grew back after the battle. My sensei wanted to take it off again, but Daddy said to leave it alone for a while and see what happened."
"'Daddy'--?"
Daddy, who had been standing in the hall behind him, stepped into the doorway and put big hands on his shoulders. "This is my dad," Gohan said to the other man, proudly.
The man slowly got to his feet, gaze locked onto his dad. Gohan looked up, not sure he liked what he was sensing, but his dad smiled at him reassuringly and Gohan kept still. "Bardock," the man said, "what are you--?" Then his eyes narrowed, and he took in a quick breath. "Kakarott." He spoke softly to Gohan, even while still looking at the man behind him. "I thought you looked like Radditz, little warrior, but I decided it was just the hair."
Daddy said, "Now that the hair's under control, he looks mostly like his mother."
Although the blue man smiled, there was suddenly something -- mean -- about the way his face was set. "We've come a long way to find out what happened to you, Kakarott. But," he added, glancing again at Gohan, "I see you've been keeping busy."
"My name," his dad said, quietly, "is Goku. Son Goku."
The thin green brows pulled together. "Goku," the other man agreed after a long moment. He placed one hand against his armored chest and bowed slightly. "Zarbon. And you, little warrior?"
Gohan stepped away from his father and bowed himself, the way Mom showed him. "I'm Gohan."
Zarbon inclined his head. "Now that we all know who we are," he said, a mocking note in his voice even as he held out a hand, "come see your uncle, little Gohan."
Zarbon experienced one moment of sparkling clarity when it felt like everything; every bizarre occurrence since they first became aware of Chikyuu, from the destruction of their satellite to Mrs. Briefs' knowledge of Saiyan eating habits; everything became absolutely clear.
Then he looked at the hatchling, and nothing made any sense at all.
The little Saiyan reached up and wrapped a small fist around two of his fingers, letting Zarbon lead him over to the tank, where he stood on the top step and solemnly regarded Radditz in the gentle glow the tank's chemicals gave off. Zarbon tilted his head to examine the child. He had never seen a Saiyan this young -- except for the nobility, children were shipped off during their first year and the survivors not retrieved until they were close to ten -- and he had never read a power level like this in any hatchling. Vegeta's ki must have been like this, when he was a child and everyone started talking about the next Super-Saiyan. Kakarott's brat was going to be a very, very dangerous adult. He absently considered the number of ways he could kill the child, painlessly, quickly, before the nearby traitor could even react. Damn that truce...
"You won't hurt me," the boy said, without looking at him.
Zarbon felt his eyes widen. "I won't this second," he said after a minute. "Make no mistake, little warrior, I will not have any hesitation when the time comes."
The child did look at him then, smiling a smile that was almost exactly like Bardock's most deadly smirk, yet lacking the cruel mockery of his third-class grandsire. "Daddy will stop you. If he has to," he added, confidently, and something in his eyes gleamed.
The scouter blipped, spiked, then settled back down. Zarbon stared at the reading. Then he reached up, took the scouter off, and dangled it for a moment on one finger before dropping it over his shoulder. "I am never trusting one of those things again," he said. "How do you do that without transforming?"
"Do what?" the boy asked, innocence personified.
In spite of his shock -- the scouter indicated that Kakarott's offspring momentarily, impossibly, approached the ki of Zarbon's mammalian form -- Zarbon felt a flash of pure amusement. "And you said you weren't a liar," he said to the boy, mock-stern.
Gohan reached out with a tiny hand, placing it flat against the tank near where one of Radditz's big palms floated. "I am part Saiyan," he said. "My sensei says I probably get something from them besides the tail."
Part Saiyan? thought Zarbon, startled anew. How can anyone be part Saiyan? He studied the boy again, frowning slightly. The eyes are all wrong, he realized, recalling Vegeta's sharp words when he had asked about Yamcha. The eyes are--human.
He glanced again toward Radditz's brother, and saw Goku was no longer alone. A female -- a human female -- stood there with him, dark hair pulled back with two loose locks framing her face, dark eyes snapping a warning at him. "Gohan, come here," she said. "You've visited your uncle long enough."
Ye gods. He does look like his mother. "Move over, little warrior," Zarbon said faintly. "I really need to sit down."
Bulma had no sooner walked into the main house than her mother pressed her into service, running around the living room making sure the early guests had the drink of their choice and that "everybody was happy," as Mrs. Briefs put it. Isn't this what I invented service robots for? thought Bulma as she smiled a bright, hard smile at various executives.
"Hey, Bulma."
She turned. Krillin stood behind her, looking a little lost, and held out a small box. "It was my turn to bring the sweet buns," he said, sheepishly. Grinning, Bulma took the box and motioned him into the kitchen, where she added the sweets to the pile Chi-chi had already made. "I thought it was going to just be the gang," Krillin said. "Obviously."
"Oh, they're going to be here, except for Tenshin-Han and Chaozu. Tenshin got all moralistic and started sputtering about taking the high ground. But Launch said she wouldn't miss it. And I might be able to drag Zarbon in, so everyone can meet a real, live alien."
"Is that what everyone's here for?"
"No, Dad put out a memo this afternoon that basically said, 'free food at the main house tonight.' It's amazing how that brings out the starving college student in stuffy accounting executives. I think some of the engineers are hoping to talk to a Saiyan, though; they've been off in the corner discussing Dad's new ..." her voice trailed off as she looked around the room "...polymer... Mom. Where's Dad?"
Mrs. Briefs, pouring the next round of drinks, said, casually, "Oh, he got a brain storm and won't be able to make it after all. He's probably going to pull an all-nighter from the sound of it, and," she added, a bit ruefully, "an all-dayer, too."
"Mom. He is leaving Radditz's tank alone, isn't he?"
"Well, I suppose so, dear."
Sighing, Bulma said, "I'd better go check."
Bulma was right about one thing; Zarbon was drop-dead gorgeous, thought Chi-chi as she watched her son edge right to let the alien settle on the top step next to him.
Zarbon rested his elbows on his thighs, his hands folded between his knees, his gaze intent. Then his head inclined to the side. The bird-like movement reminded her of what Yamcha had to say about the alien, that there was something disconcerting and strange about him. Apart from the fact that he could look a four -- no, a five-year-old child in the face and coolly promise not to flinch while killing him. "Gohan, I said, come here."
"Mom," her son complained. "I wanted to talk to my uncle."
Chi-chi crossed her arms, glaring first at her son, then at her husband. This is what's come of having Gohan learn martial arts. My son's become a complete delinquent who talks back to his mother.
Although Goku avoided her eyes, Zarbon couldn't stop staring at her as he answered Gohan. "Radditz won't be able to talk for a couple of days yet, little warrior."
Gohan, disappointment on his face, started to step down. Goku said, "Why don't you ask Zarbon?"
Slowly pulling his gaze away from her, Zarbon turned to look at her son, brows going up inquisitively. Gohan mumbled and ducked his head. "I didn't catch that," the alien said, his voice gentling.
"I just wanted to know about where dad was from, that's all. Daddy doesn't remember."
"Doesn't he?" murmured Zarbon. "It's a planet called 'Vejiitasei.' Spark any synapses?" he asked Goku, latent scorn under the smooth tone.
"No," said Goku, faintly apologetic. "I don't remember anything. Gohan," he added, belatedly, the edge of his glance catching Chi-chi's glower, "your mom wants you over here."
Gohan heaved a sigh, but jumped down and came back to his parents. Goku reached down and picked him up, then looked at her and put one arm around her. Chi-chi pulled away to sit in a chair next to the door. "I want to hear about this place, too," she said, coldly.
Zarbon looked at the boy, cradled in Goku's big arm, leaning back against his father's chest in a manner no Saiyan child would consider and no Saiyan parent would permit. He looked at the dark-haired woman sitting quietly by the door, her watchful eyes promising she would find some way, any way, to protect her son from him. And he looked at Bulma, who paused by the door, then leaned against the frame, her bright, bright eyes curious. Gohan must get the inquisitiveness from the human side of his family. After all, I have to beat Vegeta over the head to get him to listen to scouting reports! He paused, considering whether there was any strategic advantage to be gained or lost by telling them what the boy wanted to know, and, once he decided it was harmless, whether or not it in any way violated his oath to Vegeta.
"Vejiitasei," he said after a minute, "is a place of intense contrasts. Not of social differences, you understand; there is a hierarchy, but social classes are almost non-existent among the general Saiyan populace. The differences are temporal. Everything changes when the moon comes."
What you have to understand about the Saiyans (said Zarbon) is that, although they can be intensely feral, they also have an Empire to run, one that encompasses hundreds of systems. So they have created a very effective veneer of civilization. Six years out of seven, the King entertains dignitaries from the Associate Worlds and from other Empires, eating exquisitely-prepared multi-course meals off of platinum plates. He and members of his court can intelligently discuss great literature, popular entertainment, the arts, this in spite of the fact that the Saiyans have none of their own. The Associate Worlds send artisans to build monuments and traveling troupes of performers to entertain; the Saiyans dress up in their best armor and go to off-world operas and dramas and stand around in the foyer sipping wine and talking about subtle nuances in the evening's entertainment.
But every seventh year the moon comes to Vejiitasei. And the Saiyans are still tied, by custom and by primal instincts, to their moon. All intellectual affectations vanish. The planet is virtually shut down for the six months before the moon appears and after the moon leaves; very few off-worlders are permitted onto the planet. In other parts of the Empire it is looked upon as a time of religious purification which aliens aren't permitted to see; the simple truth is that it is too dangerous to allow any but the most expendable off-worlders on the planet during this time. It is no coincidence (added Zarbon, self-mocking) that I came to Vejiitasei during one of their moon years.
Even their biology is tied to the moon's appearance. All Saiyans are more animalistic during the moon cycle; their senses sharpen, their appetites double. (Zarbon looked like he wanted to say more, but regarded Gohan and, after a glance over his shoulder at Radditz, grinned faintly and continued). Lower class warriors are kept busy off-world so that they do not rampage when the moon actually appears, and infants are shipped out months earlier than they normally would be for the same reason. The on-planet Saiyans live off of raw meat torn from animals killed with their own hands; they will kill and consume anything that doesn't get out of their way, including, when the moon is out, each other. But, gradually, the moon continues on its orbit and, gradually Vejiitasei returns to normal. The planet, having been 'purified,' is once more open to off-worlders. And the dignitaries and the artisans from the Associate Worlds return, most having no idea what has happened during their absence.
"What a hideous place," said Chi-chi after a moment. "How do you educate the children if they're sent away as infants? How do you raise them properly?"
"The Saiyans essentially train their offspring by remote control. The pods have learning modules. The babies are conditioned during their trips to return to the pods periodically, so that they learn the language and how to operate some of the components of the space ship. Especially the recall command. You must have slept through that part of it," Zarbon added to Goku, coolly. Goku looked abashed and said nothing.
Bulma stirred in the doorway. "Well, I've got to get back to the party. I just wanted to make sure Dad wasn't in here playing doctor with the control panel again."
"I'm not letting him anywhere near Radditz, trust me."
Chi-chi suddenly leaped up. "No, I left Yamcha and Puaru in charge of the kitchen! I bet they've let the rice boil over and--" She gave her husband a stern glance. "Do not leave Gohan in here." Goku nodded; Chi-chi raced out.
Bulma said to Zarbon, "Chi-chi's cooking alone is worth the trip to Earth. You should come have some."
"I'll think about it."
"It should be fun. Um...there might be some folks you've met before there."
Zarbon's expression turned sardonic. "Oh, besides the little warrior? Let me guess. That fellow with the marked face who whacked me in the back with a ki sphere?" She looked startled. "I've noticed him near here, once or twice. Sneaky attack he used against me. Very Saiyan."
"Well, him, too," she mumbled. "Goku, coming?"
"In a minute. Will you take Gohan in?"
"Sure!" Bulma took the boy from Goku, then staggered comically under his weight, making the child giggle. "My, aren't you heavy now. And I swear you've grown half a foot! You're going to have to walk on your own, kid."
"Mr. Piccolo thinks I can start flying soon," the boy told her as she led him out.
Zarbon would have dearly loved to hear more about "Mr. Piccolo," but the closing door shut off any more information the child might have imparted, and he was left alone with Radditz's brother. Zarbon eyed the other man from under half-closed lids as Goku stood in front of the tank. The traitor's gaze was equally divided between the shadowy form in the tank and Zarbon himself. Zarbon wished there were some casual way he could retrieve the discarded scouter to see if Goku showed any of those curious energy spikes his son exhibited. I'm always getting rid of those things too soon, he thought, wryly.
"You're very protective of Radditz," Goku finally said.
Zarbon smiled, dangerously. "Is that a problem for you, Son Goku?"
"No," the other man said, hastily. "I just didn't think Saiyans much cared what happened to each other."
Sighing, "I'm not Saiyan," Zarbon told him. "Maybe I should just wear a sign..."
"Would he go to all this trouble for you?"
"I have no idea," Zarbon answered, frankly. "Perhaps. But Saiyans don't have a nurturing bone in their bodies; they're more vengeance-oriented. He'd likely take off after whoever injured me, which given the probable ki level of anyone who could put me into a tank would be suicide on his part." He gave Goku another long look from under nearly-closed lids and added, casually, "I don't suppose you know who did this to him, do you?"
Replied Goku after a considering pause, "No one who will be at the main house tonight."
"But someone I've run into since coming here?"
Goku, studying his brother's indistinct face over Zarbon's shoulder, said nothing.
"I won't tear up the planet looking for him," Zarbon assured him. "But when the planet is purged, I want to make very, very sure I'm in the area when he's killed."
"I don't get you," Goku said. "You liked Gohan; I could tell. But you'd kill him without a blink. Without pity or mercy."
"You forgot 'without pain.' I always try to terminate little ones painlessly, Goku. I like children; I wouldn't want any child to suffer needlessly."
"Is it being around the Saiyans that made you like this?"
"Like--?"
"Evil."
Zarbon burst out laughing. "What are you?" he asked, chuckling. "What have the humans done to you? You're the odd one here, 'Goku.' A Saiyan with no tail, who hasn't battled despite a respectable fighting ki, who somehow interbreeds with natives you were sent to exterminate. What the hell happened to you on this planet?"
"Maybe it's something in the air." Goku looked down at Zarbon, grinning with a sudden vacantness. "Bulma's right. You should come have some of Chi-chi's cooking. It's the best on the planet. Might have a mellowing affect on you, too." He started to turn away, then seemed to remember something. "By the way, Bulma thinks you and Radditz--?"
Zarbon rolled his eyes. "People think that about me and bloody anybody," he said, dryly. "Radditz and I are friends. Of course, 'friendship' is an alien concept to Saiyans, so he keeps trying to turn it into sex because sex is basic and direct and something even a Saiyan understands. But what we are, is friends."
"Uh-huh," said Goku, still smiling that strange, vacuous smile. "I'll see you at the house later, then." He paused by the door, and looked back once again. "You do know that self-knowledge is the key to harvesting all that power you're so proud of, right?"
Zarbon stared at him, the amusement fading, his face becoming a smooth, perfect mask.
"Just checking," said Radditz's brother. He waved a hand, then he was gone.
Read The Chikyuu Contaminant: Chapter Eighteen
Return to Vejiitasei Ascendant
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