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Zarbon stared at him, hurt shining out of his clear eyes, although his face was impassive and he said nothing. "Look," said Vegeta, hardly believing he was explaining himself, "right now you aren't any good to me." Wrong thing to say, somehow; Zarbon's mouth pressed tightly. Wondering for one horrified moment if his trainer was about to burst into tears, Vegeta quickly continued. "We can't spar, not until I figure out what is up with these power surges, and I need someone on board to keep Nappa in check. The vessel's captain has orders to run all of Nappa's commands through you first; you either approve them, or you get in touch with me and I'll countermand them." Zarbon's fine brows went up slightly at that, and the hard lines around his lips faded. He began to look moderately intrigued.
"You're putting me in charge of the mission?"
"Unofficially, yes. The captain and the command team know this; they are under pain of death not to let Nappa know. Nappa's a raving moron, Zarbon; he'll try to purge a super-nova if someone isn't standing right over him. Besides," Vegeta added, smiling, "I have Kakarott to hone my skills against, don't I? Isn't it better that I blow that doltish renegade up rather than you?"
"Oh, infinitely," agreed Zarbon, looking less put-upon. "But you still need a guard with you, Vegeta. It's patently useless, of course, but protocol requires it."
Vegeta folded his arms and looked down, saying casually, "Radditz is an Elite now, so I hear. He can stay."
"He isn't technically, Vegeta. He has to go through the tournaments first--"
"A formality for someone with his fighting experience."
Zarbon put his hands on his hips and said, softly, "You are a manipulative sadist, my Prince. You know we haven't had any time together for the past several months."
"Oh, if you two are so 'bonded,'" Vegeta gave the word that peculiar scornful twist planet-side Saiyans usually spit it out with, "you should just get married and make it official."
Zarbon cast his eyes up. "It's not like that with us. Anyway, my kind don't do the uncontrollable hormonal thing."
"Baka," said Vegeta, amused at his ignorance. "Then you'll survive another couple of months without your dear friend's company, won't you?"
"I was thinking his presence would be the one thing that would make two months on a ship with Nappa tolerable, but fine. Torment your poor old trainer who has never done anything but beat you up when you needed it." And Zarbon pulled such a tragic look across his smooth features that Vegeta burst out laughing.
Standing in the doorway waiting for his turn to get Vegeta's attention, Nappa frowned. He couldn't tell what was being said, but Zarbon had gone from looking like death was imminent to something near cheerful. And it had said something to make the Prince laugh out loud when he wasn't even fighting, which no one else in the Empire could do.
Nappa scowled. There had to be some way to remove the alien's corrupting influence. The sooner he figured out what it was, the better.
Landing at the Capsule Corporation, Zarbon touched his scouter and looked around, trying to get a fix on Radditz. There were scattered nearby readings, including the one he recognized as Yamcha, but nothing that reflected Radditz's energy signature or newly-Elite ki level. He went into the main building, but Mrs. Briefs, cheerfully making some sort of over-chocolately concoction, didn't know where the Saiyan was. "He said something about getting the tank smell out of his hair," she said, then added, "but he'll be back for dessert," holding out a spoon for Zarbon to taste. Zarbon raised a hand, smiling, to pass and went back outside, expanding the search parameters as he once again ran readings on his scouter.
Which didn't mean he was unprepared when Yamcha landed behind him. Zarbon greeted the other warrior politely without turning around, concentrating on a reading several hundreds of miles away that fit Radditz's new profile. Yamcha responded in kind, but his tone was hesitant--and something else. Glancing over his shoulder, Zarbon stifled a sigh. He recognized the look Yamcha was giving him. Somehow, the Earth warrior had found out about his kind--and, thought Zarbon in irritation as he scowled at the directional arrows flashing on the lens, he had a pretty good idea who had told him. Tapping the scouter off, Zarbon turned and tilted his head, deliberately lowering his chin so that the other man would only catch glints of his eyes. "Something I can do for you, warrior?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice.
"You what?" said Nappa, so stunned he couldn't even raise his voice.
"Are you having problems hearing?" queried Vegeta. "There's only one planet left in the mission, Nappa, and the scouting report for it was exceptionally dull. I see no point in going myself. I'm staying on Chikyuu."
"There's nothing on Chikyuu," snapped Nappa, before a distant memory sparked and he thought of something that was on the planet...
Vegeta, not noticing the Commander was caught in the throes of sudden realization, said coldly, "I understand this is beyond your comprehension, Nappa, but the humans are very volatile. We aren't close to having an understanding with them yet, let alone a treaty. I'm not leaving them alone for two months; who knows what insane reasons they can come up with for not treating with us in that amount of time?" Nappa made no response. Vegeta snapped his fingers in front of the Commander's face. "Hel-lo!" Nappa suddenly focused on the Prince. "I don't like talking to myself, Nappa," Vegeta said, dangerously.
"You're staying on the planet to solidify a treaty with the natives," said Nappa with admirable aplomb. "I understand. I'll inform the King."
Apparently Radditz had been serious when he told Mrs. Briefs he was going to wash his hair. The reading Zarbon tracked led him to a large, smooth body of water. Hovering over the vast lake, Zarbon folded his arms and grimaced in annoyance. He began to skirt the circumference of the lake, finally finding a pile of discarded armor on the shore. There was no immediate sign of Radditz. Sighing, Zarbon turned off his scouter and fisted his hands against his waist, staring determinedly at one patch of water. Within seconds there was a subtle boiling motion. Then Radditz burst through the water's surface, swinging his hair out of his face, snarling as he wrestled with an oversized fish. "Haven't you been eating all morning?" asked Zarbon.
Raddtiz looked over at him, released the struggling fish, and said, with no appreciable surprise, "Where did you pop up from?"
After studying him for a moment, "You're setting me up, aren't you?" inquired Zarbon, rhetorically. "Again. Which is one of the things I came to scream at you about."
Radditz grinned, and made a splashing gesture with one hand. "Water's fine. C'mon in."
"Like there aren't hundreds of showers on the ship, or a few dozen at the Capsule Corp..."
"Feh. You have no appreciation of nature."
Pulling his cloak around himself, Zarbon sat on the bank and drew his knees up. "It's not noticeably improved just because you're naked in the middle of it."
Radditz, standing in waist-deep water, regarded him for a minute. "Problem?"
"I've had a strange day," Zarbon acknowledged. "First, I mistakenly think you getting out of the tank is a good thing." There was one of those characteristic Saiyan snorts from Radditz, although this one sounded almost like a smothered laugh. "Then I had a meeting with the Prince that was a little odd. For a moment I thought Vegeta was giving me my walking papers--"
"I bet that broke your heart."
It had been a painful moment, Zarbon admitted to himself. What he told Radditz was, "Considering he's been threatening to kill me daily for fifteen years, I'd consider it the prelude to having my skull broken. But it got weirder. He wants the mission to continue with me leading it."
"Whoa. Does that mean you're finally getting an official rank?"
"No, it's strictly behind the scenes. I've already met with the command team. Half of them glared at me as if wishing I'd drop dead before their combined will, but no-one's going against Vegeta."
"You are qualified to do it. You held a command in Freeza's forces."
Zarbon put his chin on top of his knees. "Yes, a high one. But there is no place for an alien in the Saiyan military, Radditz. You know that."
"Stupid," growled Radditz after a moment.
Zarbon hunched a shoulder, dismissively. "No argument here. Although I have to say dealing with you monkey-tailed freaks is much more challenging than anything I ever did in Freeza's military."
Snorting, Radditz pulled his hair over one shoulder, wringing it as he came out of the deep water, wading until he was in front of Zarbon. Looking up at him, Zarbon intoned indifferently, "Oh, my palpitating heart. I'm overcome by your manliness. Hold me up, I'm swooning."
Radditz chuckled. "Baka." Kneeling, he put his chin on one of Zarbon's shoulders, draping his wrist loosely against the alien's neck.
"You're dripping all over me," Zarbon complained.
"I thought you didn't care about that." Turning his head, he blew gently against Zarbon's temple.
Zarbon shivered, averting his face. "Get away from me, Radditz," he warned, his voice unusually harsh.
"You wanted to be held," Radditz pointed out, but he pulled back and stretched out on his stomach on the bank next to Zarbon.
"Vegeta's staying," said Zarbon after a minute. "We're picking him up on our way back."
"Obviously, if you're controlling the rest of the mission," responded Radditz, sounding sleepy.
"He'll have to have at least one bodyguard."
"That's ridiculous."
"Oh, given, but the Heir still must have one. Elite level, of course."
Radditz turned his head enough to stare up at Zarbon's smirking profile. "No."
"Yes."
"No," said Radditz again, crossly. "I've done my time on this wretched planet, Zarbon. Curse it, I almost died here. I want off."
"Vegeta's already decreed that you're staying, Radditz."
Sighing, Radditz closed his eyes. "How long?"
"About two months, if all goes smoothly."
"This planet will be the death of me. I'll die of boredom."
"Oh, but you'll have the so-delectable Mrs. Briefs around to feed you chocolate on demand."
Radditz opened one eye and looked at Zarbon balefully. "You leave Bra out of this."
"Bra?" Zarbon asked, diverted. "Her given name is 'Bra?' What a moronic name."
"Shut up," Radditz muttered. "I could say a thing or two about your given name, lizard lips."
Zarbon winced at that, and was silent.
"My son is staying behind to handle the negotiations?" The King's bearded visage was frowning. "While I am, of course, delighted that he's finally taking an interest in the affairs of state, what the hell is he thinking? He knows nothing about such things. And why is he sending Zarbon to continue on the mission? Zarbon is a useless parasite, but he has had quite a bit of contact with alien races. He could advise Vegeta well in this."
Nappa scowled -- hearing that Zarbon had any purpose beyond Vegeta's punching bag annoyed him -- but said, "Vegeta has a sparring partner on Chikyuu. He says he doesn't need Zarbon there as well. It's true, though, that this is the first time in years Zarbon and Vegeta will have been apart. Not since--" He cut himself off, suddenly.
"Uchuun, you were going to say?" the King finished for him, dryly. "It started before then, Nappa. Uchuun was just when it became obvious how inseparable the two had become. It's hard to believe Vegeta would just send Zarbon away for a couple of months. Why now?"
Nappa looked down, refusing to meet the eyes of the King. "Radditz says--"
"I am not concerned with what any of Bardock's brats say, Nappa."
"There's a female. Radditz thinks the Prince is interested in her."
The King's brows shot up. "My son is attracted to a female? A human female?"
Hastily, Nappa started to add, "It's just idle speculation. The troops will talk when they have nothing but time to kill. And she's a hideous, fragile creature--"
The King began to laugh. "Nappa, Nappa; this is not bad news. I'm delighted to hear that my son is not totally under Zarbon's sway. Perhaps he is finally bored with the green-haired thing." He sighed. "Pity Zarbon has such high ki. Otherwise he would have his uses in the harem. I would offer him a place, but he's already made his stand on harem duty abundantly clear, hasn't he? No matter; others of his race do come on the market from time to time. I have no pressing need for Zarbon; Vegeta can kill him whenever he wants."
Nappa, shocked that the King found such creatures attractive, did not reply.
Radditz was almost asleep when Zarbon's mellow voice spoke again. "I almost forgot the other reason my day was so strange." Opening his eyes, he saw Zarbon had gotten to his feet and was standing over him, an expression that indicated he was especially annoyed across his face. "What?" asked Radditz, grinning.
"You sic'd that harlot Yamcha on me, didn't you?"
"Moi?" Radditz said, passably mimicking Bulma's mother.
Zarbon's lips quirked, then he bent a very severe stare at Radditz. "I have a lover, idiot. Stop being annoyed because it isn't you."
"Oh, but Yamcha's practically Saiyan. He's practically a Saiyan female, in fact..."
"Stop it," said Zarbon sternly, trying not to laugh.
"Don't you think he looks like Sashoki?"
"There's a resemblance," allowed Zarbon. "She's got one or two fewer scars..."
"Did you look everywhere? Base of the spine, maybe, where the tail would've been?"
Zarbon sighed. "Why haven't I killed you yet...?"
Radditz tried to snarl, which was hard to do when he was repressing laughter. "What's that insipid word you use? Oh, right; we're friends. That's why you haven't killed me. How'd you get rid of him?"
"Oh, showed him one of my mating forms."
"Huh? How did that--"
A slight frown of concentration creased Zarbon's forehead. A second later Radditz uttered an un-Saiyan-like yelp, raising to his hands and knees, then sitting down hard in his astonishment.
Zarbon's form smoothed into its more familiar appearance. "Ah. I should have showed you that one a long time ago, I see."
"That--that was--that..." stuttered Radditz in horror.
"As the off-world troops say, Radditz; different strokes," grinned Zarbon.
"Have you--have you ever used that one?"
"Ecchi. None of your damned business."
A sly smile pressed one corner of Radditz's mouth up. "I mean, I can see where it might have...possibilities."
After a minute, "Hentai!" Zarbon exclaimed softly, a cast of faint, amused surprise crossing his face.
Radditz noted, "Well, your command of the Southern language continues to improve."
"Omee bakayaro."
"Impressively, although your syntax needs work. And your word linkage is a little redundant, too. I could teach you some of my own Eastern tongue. Much more lyrical. Well, if you like growling..."
Zarbon started to say something, but his scouter beeped. Looking at the symbols crossing his lens, he sighed. "I have to return to the ship. Remind me when I come back to Chikyuu that I'm beyond angry with you, okay? I keep forgetting things like that."
"I'll make a note. Ah, damn, no pockets. Once I get dressed, I'll make a note."
Grinning, Zarbon reached down, just touching the tips of his fingers to Radditz's sun-warmed shoulder. "You take care of yourself," he said. "I like you the way you are, Radditz; I don't want to hear you've gone native on us, too."
Radditz snorted. "Not frickin' likely."
Zarbon grinned again. Then the blue-tinged aura began to curl around him, and he was gone.
Yamcha was sitting by the window staring out of it, one knee crossed over his opposite thigh. "What?" asked Puaru.
"Oh, something weird happened to me at Capsule Corporation tonight. I'm trying to decide what I feel about it."
"Anything to do with Bulma?"
Yamcha flushed. "Kami, no."
After a minute, Puaru ventured, "What's up with you and Bulma?"
He sighed. "I don't know."
"Are you getting back together?"
Yamcha was silent.
"I always wanted you two together," said Puaru after a minute. "But mostly I want you both to be happy."
"That's what we want, too," he assured his friend. "Sometimes, though; it's hard to know which way to turn for 'happy.' We've been happy together. We aren't exactly miserable apart, though. Oh, well; plenty of time to figure it out."
"Yamcha. It's not like Bulma doesn't have options."
"Options?"
"It's not like she doesn't have a broodingly handsome guy who's a Prince constantly finding excuses to pop down to the planet to visit her," pointed out Puaru. "And staring at her like he'd like to, oh, I don't know, snatch her away and fly around the world a few times with her."
Yamcha's first reaction was a blank stare. Then he started to chuckle. "You mean, Vegeta?" He began to laugh uproariously. "Vegeta! Oh, come on; he's short! He can't string two words together without yelling! And he has a tail, for crying out loud!"
"You have a problem with tails?" asked Puaru, sweetly. "Or maybe it's just short guys with tails?"
"No, of course not." Puaru, disbelieving, stuck his petite nose in the air. "Puaru, this is all moot, anyway," Yamcha said. "I got a call from Bulma. Vegeta went to see her--"
"What did I tell you?"
"Oh, stop it. They want a treaty, but it'll have to wait for a while. The Saiyans are heading on their merry little way, and they'll be gone for a couple of months. And I'll have Bulma all to myself, won't I? See; you worry too much."
"What the hell do I look like, a slave?!" the Prince screamed the second Zarbon stepped into Vegeta's private quarters. He flung something at Zarbon; Zarbon's form blurred and reformed several feet away. Glancing toward the doorway, Zarbon saw flank guards just clanking to the floor. "You were supposed to do this!" Vegeta snapped.
Zarbon looked at the Prince, and tried hard not to burst out laughing. Unsuccessfully. "You are dead," Vegeta snarled in a voice that sounded sincere.
Attempting to maintain a soothing tone through chuckles, Zarbon said, "Vegeta, I will pack for you, I promise. The ship doesn't leave for several more hours, though; I thought I had plenty of time."
Vegeta scowled at him, a boot dangling from his fingers. Various pieces of armor were tossed everywhere in the room. From the looks of it, the Prince had been trying to force a chest plate into a form-fitted case clearly meant for the flank guards now blocking the entrance. Zarbon gazed at the Prince indulgently, sighing mentally. Like most of the nobility, Vegeta was completely lost when it came to anything practical. It had taken years to shake the Prince out of the notion that Zarbon needed to help him dress. "My Prince, just put the boot down. I'll handle this."
After staring suspiciously at the boot as if wondering how he came to be holding it, Vegeta dropped it and spun away toward the circular port window. Feeling as if he were in charge of a new hatchling, Zarbon began to pick up different pieces of armor and arrange them by size on the table. "Vegeta, are you annexing half the planet while you're here? What do you need all this for?"
"I just want to make sure I have everything," grumbled Vegeta after a minute. "It's not like I can come back to the ship and get it."
Zarbon paused, looking at the straight back. His amusement turned wry. Ah, he's nervous. Poor little princeling. He's never had to deal with a female outside of those pathetic, barely-alive creatures in the harem. Or maybe it's the idea of actually negotiating for something instead of taking it. Eh, Saiyans; they are the most non-adaptable race in the cosmos. He set down a wrist guard (Vegeta had never worn one, not once, in the entire time Zarbon had worked for the Prince) and went to the window, putting a hand on Vegeta's shoulder. The Prince shrugged it off without comment. "Vegeta," said Zarbon, "everything will be all right. I'll pack the best portable communication gear we have; you'll be able to contact me whenever you want."
"What are you going on about?" the Prince wondered in irritation. He turned his head, fixing Zarbon with those dark, hard Saiyan eyes. "I don't need to speak with you unless something's drastically wrong with the mission, Zarbon."
Zarbon sighed and stepped back. "I won't let you down, my Prince," he said.
"Of course not," responded Vegeta, vague surprise in his tone. "You wouldn't dare, Zarbon."
Bulma's bedroom was sound proofed, which meant that, unless someone actually knocked on the window, she could sleep though anything happening in the compound outside.
Explosions within the building itself, however, were another matter. Jarred awake by she-didn't-know-what, Bulma was about to turn over when she heard the distant spark of ki energy through her door. Leaping out of bed, she grabbed her robe and raced down the stairs, heart pounding frantically. They've broken the truce! I shouldn't have been so short with Vegeta this afternoon, but he was so bloody arrogant he got on my nerves. What have I done?
Something exploded at the base of the stairs. Bulma screamed and ducked, pressing against the wall, feeling the heat. There was a clanging impact against the staircase above her, then a series of metallic noises as an object rolled down several steps, stopping just below her. Reaching out with one hand, she felt the rounded contours of a head belonging to one of the security robots. Dammit, doesn't anyone but me care what these things cost? Inching down the remainder of the stairs, Bulma crouched in the opening and peered out.
"And just the other night I was criticizing your lack of security," came Vegeta's voice out of the darkness. There was a spark in a corner of the room, and she caught a brief glimpse of the Prince in the explosion of another security robot. "My mistake."
"Stand down!" Bulma shouted, and the whirring noises halved in volume as the remaining robots went into neutral mode. Reluctantly, "Lights," she ordered the house computer, sure she didn't want to see whatever Vegeta had done to her parents' living room. Then she caught sight of the Prince himself, and she lost all interest in her surroundings for just a minute.
He looked...regal. He was wearing white armor, as he often did, but this armor had gold-toned shoulder guards and abdominal insert, with a blue-gray cloak fastened on the guards that flashed hints of a deep red lining as he moved. There was a red crest set over one breast, vaguely trident-shaped. He put his hands low on his hips, practically on his thighs, and smiled at her, that rather unpleasant, subtle smirk that was, she now knew, the Prince's equivalent of her own 'gotcha.' Radditz stood in the doorway, a respectful distance back, his legs and arms set in the stance that indicated formal attention in the Saiyan military.
They were both surrounded by robot debris, and looking supremely satisfied with themselves. Behind Radditz, through the gaping door, Bulma espied what resembled, for all the world, luggage. A pile of it.
"Vegeta," Bulma said, half-fearing the answer, "what the hell are you doing here?"
One brow went up. "I said we would talk more, woman," he reminded her. "Did you think I meant telepathically? Your kind is woefully ill equipped for that."
"But isn't your ship leaving soon?"
"It left," the Prince informed her, the smug smirk fractionally widening. "I didn't."
"It's coming back for you, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes. In two months, ship time. That's about 65 of your solar days."
"Where are you staying?" Bulma asked, knowing the answer but hoping she was dead wrong.
The smirk widened to gloat proportions. "You speak for Earth, do you not?"
"Evidently," conceded Bulma, crossly, wondering how she had been drafted into that particular duty.
"Then, obviously, the negotiations will be best facilitated by my presence here."
You're assuming we don't kill each other first. And right now, Bulma thought, mentally tallying the cost of replacing a score of security robots, that's a bet I wouldn't take myself. Sighing, Bulma turned and looked back up the staircase, just making out the two figures standing at the top. "Mom? Dad? We have company." Glaring balefully at the Saiyans, she muttered, "Long-term company."
Read The Chikyuu Contaminant: Chapter Twenty-One
Return to Vejiitasei Ascendant
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Vegeta and Radditz have destroyed security 'bots since 3/21/99!
