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Landing softly some yards behind Radditz, the figure regarded him quietly. The Saiyan was doubled over, hands clenched into his hair, looking as if he were in intense pain. Sighing, the figure approached. Although nothing showed on his scouter, some sense warned Radditz that he was being stalked and he suddenly whirled, elbow out. The figure blocked the blow to the throat, then grabbed both wrists, wrapped the fingers of one hand around them and pulled them to the side. His free arm went around Radditz's shoulders. Radditz resisted, but he was drawn inexorably to the man, who held him firmly even as he struggled to get away. There was a scuffle as the Saiyan snarled and grunted, but Radditz found himself simply--overmatched. Still he struggled, until he was too exhausted to do anything except lean against his opponent gasping for breath, snarling obscenities, then gasping for breath again. His wrists were finally released as the other judged him too exhausted to fight anymore. A strong hand spread flat against his chest. The shadowy figure stepped back slightly, trying to look him in the face, but Radditz turned his head away, eyes squeezed shut.
"So," Goku said quietly after a minute, "you want to tell me what's put you into this state?"
He had returned hours ago. Not that she had been watching for him, Bulma assured herself. She just happened to be standing at the window (the open window) of her workshop gazing out into the night sky over Vegeta's capsule house when the Prince returned, surrounded by bright ki energy, leaving a trail behind him like an attacking jet fighter. He pulled up to float down to his door and walked in without a glance towards the main building. Probably needs to take a shower, she finally decided, watching lights come on and turn back off. She went to her bedroom, one floor up, and against stood by her window (her open window; on an increasingly-cool fall night, how much of a hint did one bone-headed Saiyan need?) watching the play of light from his temporary home, willing him to hurry up and finish what-ever he was doing, because they needed to talk, dammit. Not that she was freezing to death by her open window waiting for the little runt.
When all the lights went out without Vegeta making another appearance, Bulma decided she could not wait for him in another part of the building. She did some peeking around corners first; Vegeta had a predictable schedule, generally speaking, but one never knew where Radditz might be at any given moment; and made her way to the kitchen.
To find her mother sitting at the table, finishing a cup of tea as another sat nearby, steam gently wafting as it brewed. "Expecting Radditz?" Bulma asked, more sharply than she meant to.
Mrs. Briefs smiled her usual bright smile. "Well, he does wander in here from time to time; but, no. I was hoping you might pop by."
Bulma gazed at her mother, feeling astonishment thread through her. "Your mom-radar picking up vibrations or something?"
"Or something. The Saiyan ship is only a few hours away, dear. I was rather curious about your plans."
"My...?"
Mrs. Briefs pushed the cup at her. "Well, your young man's, really. Is Vegeta leaving with the ship, or will he be staying for a while? I do have meals to plan," she pointed out as Bulma stared at her. "When you're dealing with a Saiyan, that's a major undertaking. Do we expect him for a week? A month? Longer?"
Bulma sat down. "Umm," she finally warbled.
"Ah. You two still haven't worked it all out, I take it."
"First Yamcha, now you! Do I have a neon sign flashing over my head saying 'lovesick' or what?" demanded Bulma.
"If it's any consolation, I tried talking to Radditz about this--"
"ARGH!" Bulma grabbed handfuls of hair and put her head down on the table.
"--but he thought I was reading too much into simple lust. I gather there are some sort of cultural taboos he considered pretty insurmountable for anything permanent," Mrs. Briefs added, vaguely, "but I never put much stock in things like that. Dear, you are pulling your hair."
"There have been times in the last few months I've felt like you've transmogrified before my eyes," muttered Bulma, her voice muffled against the table top.
"You've just finally reached the point where you realize I'm as human as you are," responded Mrs. Briefs.
Without raising her head, Bulma turned it enough to fix her mother with a horrified stare. "And just how human have you been around Radditz?"
Her mother gave one of her clear peals of laughter. "Oh, Bulma. Radditz thinks we humans are much too delicate for anything like sex." There was an audible gagging sound from her daughter. "It was a purely theoretical conversation," Mrs. Briefs assured her.
"I don't know what to say."
"Then drink your tea and go to bed, dear. And do let me know what you and your young man decide to do, okay?"
Feeling slightly shell-shocked, Bulma decided to take her mother's advice and did just that. She made a point of closing and locking the bedroom window before turning in, however. Vegeta had his chance; any decision-making he felt like participating in would wait until the next day.
He could get nothing out of Radditz other than inarticulate snarls and foul-mouthed deprecations. Goku looked at the man, feeling the same conflicting emotions he had felt that first day when he watched his self-proclaimed brother spin to face Gohan then go down before Piccolo's attack. So many questions; so little chance of getting any of them answered! Especially right now; all he wants to do is lash out. "I don't want to leave you here like this," he finally said. "Look, just come home with me for a while, okay? We don't have to talk."
That, at least, got a reaction; a rather pained-sounding snort. "Eh, what does it matter?" Radditz finally muttered in a low, raw-sounding voice. "I don't care."
I don't have to read auras to notice he's depressed! Goku wondered if he would actually have to carry Radditz, but his brother finally climbed heavily to his feet then levitated, heading off in the direction of the Sons' cottage. Goku caught up to him, and then stayed at his shoulder during the flight, eyeing the strange twists and gyrations in Radditz's aura in concern. Whatever was bothering the Saiyan warrior was intense and conflicting. It had unexpectedly jolted Goku himself out of a sound sleep, which was disconcerting enough; Goku thought if he started keeping subconscious tabs on just one more person, his head would explode from the strain.
He tip-toed into his own home with exaggerated care, shushing Radditz urgently when the other man started to ask him what the hell he was doing. Rolling his eyes, Radditz held his peace as Goku slunk around the kitchen getting glasses of water, constantly casting concerned glances toward the ceiling above which Chi-chi rested. It had taking him a long time to soothe her to sleep -- she had not taken the news of Piccolo's mentor relationship with Gohan well or quietly -- and he really didn't want to endure another screaming bout should she walk in and catch her brother-in-law at her kitchen table. Turning back with the water, he watched Radditz settle into one of the straight-backed chairs. It was easy to forget how massive the Saiyan was, he thought, until you saw him next to everyday items. He got an odd mental flash of lined-up Saiyans, all different heights and builds, with Vegeta representing one extreme and Radditz the other. Grinning slightly, he put the glasses down, turned a chair backwards to straddle it, and regarded his brother with wide, solemn eyes.
Radditz scowled back, ignoring the offered drink. "You're staying in this anemic place, aren't you? It's drained every last drop of fire from you."
So we ignore what's really bothering you. If that's the way you want it... "Where do you expect me to go, Radditz? Your planet? We've heard all about it from Zarbon. It really doesn't sound like my kind of place. It's certainly not a place I would take my wife or my son."
Radditz exhaled sharply, looking down at his hands pressed flat against the table. "Zarbon. He probably knows more about our culture than any alien, even those ambassadors from Associate Worlds that have decades of experience there. At least he goes away from the cities. Yet what does he really know? He thinks we are little more than animals, completely ruled by hormones and involuntary instincts. If all you know of Vejiitasei is what Zarbon told you, you know nothing at all."
"Then you tell me."
Radditz was silent for so long Goku thought he would not speak at all.
I suppose I can't blame Zarbon (mused Radditz) for considering us primitives. He did come to us during a moon year, when many of us are not...ourselves. It's distorted every experience he's had on the planet since then. He looks at our monuments and sees the barbaric plunder of a hundred thousand worlds. We look at the same things and see not only our staggering number of victories but the amalgamation of another people into the Saiyan Empire. It does the Associate Worlds good to be represented in Vejiitasei's day-to-day life. It makes them realize they are part of something much larger and much, much more important than they are. Oh, they will never be Saiyans, of course; but they are protected by Saiyans, and that is almost as good. Yet the weak cowards flee the planet as the moon approaches. Even when there is no moon, they stay in tiny sectors within our cities and never venture into any of the continental centers. It is their loss; they do not see that which makes Vejiitasei superior to every other planet. And there is so much; how could I possibly explain it to you, who has only seen this limited world...?
(Well, what do you like best about the place? prompted Goku. After a moment of contemplation, Radditz answered--)
This is a pretty world in its way, Kakarott, but Chikyuu lacks the sheer grandeur of Vejiitasei. Just the colors of our homeworld are stunning, brother. We do not have seasons as your planet does, but we still go through changes of a sort. The dust clouds that linger in the upper atmosphere shift from time to time, turning the sky orange, jade, deep blue. They're the colors reflected in the tapestries the Northern craftsmen make--
(Zarbon said you didn't have native artisans, remarked Goku. Radditz snorted, then continued--)
What Zarbon doesn't realize (Feh! Radditz interrupted himself. As if he realizes anything--!) is that not everything he sees is the result of off-world talents. Those tapestries in the palace he admires so much are the work of the Northern tribes; they are known for textiles. The rest of the tribes may not produce anything so tangible, but they are not unskilled. The oral traditions are kept by the Western tribes. The Southerners...eh, I suppose they hunt and produce Elites. Yet another reason Zarbon has little clue about any wider Saiyan society. The House of Vejiitasei -- that's Vegeta's line -- has dwelt in the Central Continent since the end of the war with the Tsufuruns, but it's considered of the Southern Continent, and Zarbon has thrown himself into learning everything he can about the Prince's culture. It's given him a narrow view of Vejiitasei. The Southerners are very...proud; even the non-nobility of the lesser Southern tribes are ever conscious of their origins, and consider themselves (another snort) superior to the other tribes.
Radditz stopped, a cold smirk curving his mouth. "Our mother is a Southerner. What, nothing to say?" he goaded after a moment.
"You don't like talking about her," said Goku. "Are you a Southerner, then?"
"I take our father's line, that of the Eastern tribes," replied Radditz. "Not that I especially want to, but I want even less to be associated with our mother's line."
After a pause, "What do Easterners do?" queried Goku.
"You're not going to ask about her," murmured Radditz.
"I can tell that you aren't going to talk about her," responded Goku. "You're still really, really upset at--whoever you're upset at, and you're just itching to unload on me. Normally," Goku told his gaped-mouthed brother, "I would let you do it. But I've had a pretty rough day myself, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of any more yelling."
"How do you and the little hybrid do that?" growled Radditz. "You can't know what I'm thinking; if you got inside my head I'd feel it."
Goku gave that bright, vacuous smile. "Do what?"
"Eh, be like that," snapped Radditz after a narrow-eyed stare. "We sing." Goku blinked. "Easterners sing."
"I don't. I have a horrible singing voice."
"Oh, I didn't say we sing well," Radditz said with a flash of genuine amusement, "and not all of us do it. Most don't, in fact. It's part of the oral tradition that Zarbon doesn't comprehend; if it isn't written down, he thinks it isn't really history. You didn't hear this from me, brother, but not every single Saiyan on the planet is a life-long warrior. A handful prefer to spend their time in other pursuits. And, once their military service is complete, they may." He looked at Goku slyly, from under half-closed eyes. "Aren't you at all curious, brother?" he asked softly. "Doesn't Vejiitasei call to your blood? Don't you want to hunt under the binary stars, or howl at the moon in a deep green sky? Or are you so completely divorced from what it means to be Saiyan that you're willing to continue your pale existence on this tame world?"
After a moment, Goku said, as he had once before, "My family's here, Radditz."
Radditz looked at him in stark disbelief and opened his mouth in what was likely (thought Goku) to be a Chi-chi-waking bellow. Then the expression on his face shifted, and he glanced upward. Goku cocked his head slightly. "Zarbon?" he guessed.
Without answering precisely, Radditz said, "The ship's entered the system."
"You don't sense ki, do you? How do you know when Zarbon's around?"
Radditz spat with sudden vehemence, "I don't have to answer to you, moron!"
"Ah--" Goku sat up straight, putting one hand behind his head as he grinned nervously. "Right. Sorry."
Radditz got to his feet. "I am wearing a scouter," he snarled caustically before stalking out the door.
Goku considered mentioning that he heard none of the faint, characteristic beeps the machine usually produced when it was on, then decided against it.
It seemed to Zarbon he had hardly dropped through the upper atmosphere when the recall came from the ship. Vegeta was already on board, demanding his presence. Arms akimbo, he looked down at Chikyuu, wondering where Radditz was, if he needed help. Then he made a slight clicking noise, both amused and irritated. Vegeta had his oath; Vegeta would always come first, if only for that. Wishing he could be two places at once, Zarbon headed back to the ship and went straight to Vegeta's quarters. The door slid back as soon as the computer recognized him. Zarbon stepped into the outer stateroom, looking around for the Prince.
Vegeta was standing by the circular viewport, gazing out at the blue planet they were orbiting. Zarbon felt one corner of his mouth quirk as he took in Vegeta's human attire. I was worried about Radditz going native! Clearly Goku was harder on Vegeta's battlesuits than I anticipated. Vegeta's tail was down, waving slightly at the tip. Zarbon wondered if he should read more anything into that other than it would be uncomfortable wrapping the appendage around the layers of loose cloth. He waited a few minutes, but Vegeta did not speak or turn away from Chikyuu. Finally he prompted, "You wanted me, my Prince?"
Vegeta's shoulders went a little straighter. The Prince spoke as if to the planet below, unemotionally. "I am mated to the human female."
Zarbon blinked. Why is he telling me this? He cast back in his mind, but could come up with no other instant when Vegeta felt a need to share details of his personal life. "I had a pretty good idea she was the reason you stayed behind," he ventured when some response seemed to be required of him.
There was a sharp exhale. "You could have told me, baka." Vegeta shifted slightly, turning his head just enough to meet Zarbon's eyes, reflected in the viewport. "Although I think you were not listening to what I just said, Zarbon."
What was there to listen to? Zarbon replayed the comment in his mind once, twice, before the phrasing suddenly hit him. Not "I have mated with," but "I am mated to--" His knees started to give. The closest thing to grab hold of was the wall next to the door; he found himself leaning heavily against it, hands pressed flat, rounded eyes fixed on Vegeta's rigid back. That bonding thing--! How?! I thought the nobility didn't--!"Oh, Vegeta," he whispered. "Oh, no."
Vegeta snorted and returned his gaze to the planet.
It took a few minutes for Zarbon to gather his wits, to run through the scenarios, to touch on the reaction of the King, the tribal chiefs. Straightening away from the wall, he said coldly, "I'll kill her," and turned to leave.
"Fool," said Vegeta, evenly. "That is not how I chose to handle this. Persist along that line, and the only one who ends up dead here is you."
Zarbon paused with a hand braced by the door, eyes screwing shut. Of course. They protect their 'mates' to the death. He said over his shoulder, "Vegeta, this is--unacceptable. Your father would never permit--"
"No," agreed Vegeta.
That was all he said.
Zarbon turned back to the Prince. "Vegeta, don't," he said, pleading. "It's too soon. You're not ready--"
Vegeta spun away from the window. Zarbon saw him clearly for the first time. Despite his cool tone, the Prince was far from unemotional. Vegeta's eyes glittered as if fevered, and his mouth was open, snarling. Zarbon took an involuntary step back, insanely wondering if Vegeta were actually in rut. "You think I don't know that, Zarbon? You think this is what I wanted? Now? Ever?" The Prince's arms were folded in his characteristic pose across his chest, but Zarbon saw he was gripping his own upper arms, digging into his own flesh through the thick woolly human clothing. "You think 'I'll kill her for this' wasn't the first thing that crossed my mind? I went to do that, Zarbon. I had her neck in my hands--" Vegeta stopped, and twisted back to the window. The reflected visage smoothed out his features, giving no indication of the Prince's torment.
Repulsed and fascinated, Zarbon tried to finish for him. "You couldn't do it."
"Oh, I could have," came the low voice. "Make no mistake. It was one of several actions I considered and rejected, Zarbon. I decided on the more challenging course. That's all."
"I--" Zarbon floundered helplessly. "What do you want me to do, my Prince?"
"You are so interested in reports, Zarbon. Create one for me. I need to know exactly how fragile human females are. Complete physical tolerances and limitations. When bones break. You understand?"
Well, that answered another question... "Yes, sir," Zarbon responded, his tone formal.
"You must keep this to yourself, Zarbon. Quite apart from not wanting my father to know just how limited his days are, I don't need some patriot with a death wish taking matters into his own hands. If an assassin's actions are sanctioned, even posthumously, by my father, it will not be treason. When I am King, I say what is and isn't treason. And I will say it in such a way that no one will dare move against her."
Zarbon's mind was beginning to move beyond shock, to grasp some of the more-immediate potential pitfalls. "How are we taking her back? Can she tolerate this gravitational stress? I suppose we could lock her in a pod for five months, but she'll be very cranky when we get there...!"
"It won't take that long. I have the techs working on modifications to the drive that the old man devised. We'll be back on Vejiitasei in two or three months. In any case;" there was a shift in Vegeta's posture, a slight hunching of the shoulders; "I do not have a set timeline for all this, Zarbon. I may need to come back here a dozen times before anything is settled between us."
Oh-oh. As bad as this is, there is still something he isn't telling me. What could it be--? Wait. Do humans bond?
"Vegeta, does she want to come to Vejiitasei?"
The imperial shoulders hunched higher. "I haven't told her yet," muttered Vegeta.
Zarbon raised a long fingered hand to the bridge of his nose as his brows folded together in consternation. "Asked, Vegeta. You mean, asked. You haven't asked her if she wants to leave everything she knows and come to a gods-forsaken cloud-shrouded rock where she's going to be ostracized at best and actively plotted against at worst."
"Whatever," the Prince snarled after a minute.
A thread of humor began to weave into Zarbon's mood. "Vegeta, you had better ask before you do something you can't undo. Nicely. Very, very nicely."
"I know how to talk to Bulma!" Vegeta snapped.
I think I have nothing to worry about, Zarbon thought, suddenly fighting a grin. No female in her right mind would go to Vejiitasei. Although we are talking about a human female here, and I don't think I've seen any sign of sanity in the species yet...Heh. Maybe they are related to the Saiyans; I've always thought the monkey-tailed freaks were totally cracked as well. "I'll get to work on that report," he told Vegeta.
Squaring his shoulders, Vegeta stepped away from the viewport. His features were set and determined, the fierce light of battle beginning to spark in his eyes. "I'll get to work on Bulma."
Read The Chikyuu Contaminant: Chapter Twenty-Nine
Return to Vejiitasei Ascendant
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