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There were awkward moments. Like when Bulma practically leaped out of her skin after feeling something fuzzy slithering between her back and the sheets and Vegeta, suddenly giggling nervously, pulled her up and soothed her with gentle hands until she calmed slightly. "It's just my tail," he said as the offending appendage curved up her back and peeked over her shoulder, as if abashed at frightening her. The tip touched her cheek, gently, then began to sweep slowly back and forth over her shoulder and neck as her breathing returned to normal. She rested her chin on his shoulder and tried not to dissolve into nervous giggles herself as he smoothed his hands across her back. His warm, strong hands... "Lean back," he murmured after a minute. The tail tightened slightly as she did, holding her just off the bed, freeing up his hands. She decided, absently, that she liked tails. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated on a few other things she liked, finding out what Vegeta liked as well, until she stopped thinking entirely and could only feel. When her mind did start working again, all that crossed it was, That was intense...
Vegeta's forehead was pressed against the juncture of her neck, one hand covering her shoulder. He was still making soft little panting noises. Bulma rested her cheek against his rough hair and ran one hand across his back, unusually cool with just-drying sweat. He gulped in a breath, then raised his head to touch his lips to her cheek. "Did I hurt you?" he breathed, his voice raspy.
"What did I say I was going to do if you asked that again?"
He chuckled softly. "I forget. It sounded painful, though. You," he added in some amusement, "are not nearly as delicate as I thought."
Bulma grinned, closing her eyes, wondering why he wasn't crushing her, then felt his arm under her back; he was supporting most of his weight on it. She tried to wriggle away, but the grip on her shoulder tightened. "This can't be comfortable for you--"
"Don't be an idiot. I'm fine." There was a flex of muscle, and she was enclosed within his arms, unable to move except to shift slightly. "I'm more than fine," Vegeta whispered against her ear, then moved his mouth along her jawline. Stroking her hands to the small of his waist, she found the base of his tail and closed her fingers around it; he shuddered, and she felt the curve of a smile against her throat. "One of us learns fast," he said softly, and neither of them spoke for a while after that.
After five minutes, he gave up on the other glove as a lost cause. He was lucky that he found both his boots; one of them somehow ended up well under the bed and digging it out without waking Bulma had been tricky. Tossing the mate-less glove on the covers, Vegeta started to fasten the cape to the studs on his armor's shoulders, wondered crossly why he was bothering with the useless thing and threw it on the bed as well. It nearly enveloped Bulma's sleeping form; she made some tiny noise and curled up, snuggling against one of the haphazardly-arranged pillows. The Prince scowled, then found an involuntary grin tugging at his mouth; the Heir to the House of Vejiitasei, envious of one of those over-stuffed Earth cushions! He leaned over her, imprinting himself with the smell--he pressed his mouth to a sleeping shoulder--the taste of her. "My little human Queen," he said softly against her ear. "You have no idea the amount of trouble you're going to cause me, do you?"
She turned over, half-opened one eye at him, muttered something about trouble being her middle name, and dropped off again. Smiling, he kissed her parted lips and said, "I have to leave, Bulma-chan. Don't fret; the time will go quickly. I'll let you know when it's safe to come to Vejiitasei."
"Mmmm," was all he got. Vegeta grinned again; she was only human, poor thing, and he had completely worn the little creature out; kissed her once more and walked out.
It was a few minutes later that Bulma sat straight up and said, "Leave? Leave? What the hell do you mean, leave?" She jumped out of bed and ran to the front door, belatedly realized she was naked, ran back, grabbed Vegeta's cloak from off the bed, and finally made it outside, peering in the early morning light, finding no trace of her new husband. She stomped one bare foot against the dew-wet ground. "You idiot! How am I supposed to get home, fly? Men," Bulma muttered, turning back to the little house. "It doesn't matter what planet they're from, they're still men, aren't they? Grrr."
She was on her second cup of coffee before the synapses clicked and she remember that the deluxe capsule house came with a cellular phone. Grumbling, she called her mother, telling her to trace the phone's signal and come get her.
Nappa blinked when Vegeta came out of the airlock, then found himself smirking. The boy certainly looked like he'd had a night of it. Good! He's so busy training and doing who-knows-what with that Zarbon creature he forgets the carousing. Warriors need a good carouse every now and again. Vegeta scowled when he saw the Commander, holding up a hand. "Not now, Nappa, not now..." Still smirking, Nappa stood to one side.
The smile whisked off his face when he saw the alien waiting for Vegeta in the hallway.
Although Nappa did not hear the alien speak, "Shut up," the Prince growled as he walked past his aide.
Zarbon raised one eyebrow, reached into its armor, pulled out some small papers and, after falling into step just behind Vegeta, passed them to the Prince right as the two disappeared from Nappa's sight around a corner. Suddenly there was a very non-royal shriek from Vegeta. Nappa started toward the sound, but heard Zarbon's amused voice, "Yes, I know, you'll kill me for this."
Muttering from Vegeta.
"Let's take that as a given. Look at this one, Vegeta; isn't it just too--what is the word?--kawaii?"
"Shut up," the Prince snarled again. "What are you doing, you can't have them back, mine! Let go!"
There were definite scuffling noises, a yip from Zarbon, then a suggestive 'thud.' The alien's next comment, while it retained a note of amusement, was aggrieved. "Ye gods, Vegeta, relax. I did get them for you. I had to put up with that idiot Goku rattling on about f-stops and I-don't-know-what to do it. Single longest hour of my life. You could be a little grateful, my Prince."
More muttering from Vegeta.
"You're welcome," said the alien.
Not sure why he was being cautious, Nappa peeked around the corner. At the far end of the hall Vegeta and Zarbon were walking into a lift tube. Just before the doors closed behind them Nappa saw Zarbon lift a hand to the smaller man's shoulder. Scowling, he started down the hall after them. It was time and past time someone reminded Vegeta that, whatever liberties he permitted the alien in private (Yeech!), he should force Zarbon to behave with some decorum in public. Something crunched under one foot. Nappa paused. Bending down, he picked up one of the little pieces of paper, evidently dropped in the tugging match between Vegeta and Zarbon. It took a minute for him to focus on it -- he preferred holographs, himself, and had to consciously adjust for the flattened representation. He held it between two fingers, the scowl fading into puzzlement as he wondered why the Prince would want a picture of a human female so much he would wrestle his aide over it.
While outbound missions tended to have their exciting moments, being on a ship returning from a mission did not. Soon it became clear no Associate World was going to relieve tedium by rebelling along the ship's return path, and traveling through the well-settled center of the galaxy meant there were no unclaimed planets to be cleared for the Empire's ever-expanding population. After a month, warriors were picking fights with each other over foolish things like favorite drinks or who could out-eat whom. The Prince, never a mixer, held himself rigidly aloof from his fellow Saiyans. He trained flat-out with Zarbon at all hours, locking himself in his stateroom when not training, refusing to see the Captain or even (thought Nappa, indignantly) the only other member of the nobility on the ship. Zarbon was far more visible, sometimes limping into the mess with obvious bruises to take a meal with Radditz or the handful of other warriors that openly tolerated it, sometimes still popping up at officers' meetings where it was (in Nappa's considered opinion) far more welcome than it should be. As much as it pained the Commander to do so, he was beginning to think there was more to the rumors about Vegeta's unnatural dependence on Zarbon than just the idle talk of bored soldiers. Far from creating distance between the Prince and his alien aide, the two months spent apart seemed to have brought them closer together.
If not for Radditz, in fact, Nappa would have been bored to the point of actually leaving the ship and heading off for one of the galactic garrisons they passed. Bardock's newly-Elite son was training as diligently as the Prince himself, striving to master his new power level before the return to Vejiitasei. It was obvious he meant to answer the next call for King's Guards. While it would have been beneath the Commander's dignity to spar with a warrior of first class, even an unofficial Elite was acceptable. And, between Radditz's sometimes-comical efforts to discover what Elite-level ki did and the fact he was still 2500 clicks below Nappa's own fighting level, he made a very amusing toy.
Speaking of toys, the Commander thought in irritation as he glanced toward the viewers while Radditz once more picked himself off the ground and valiantly set himself for another attack. Nappa rarely caught even a glimpse of Vegeta, but it seemed like he couldn't get away from Vegeta's alien catamite. Zarbon cupped its hands and shouted Saiyan-style obscenities at Radditz as it encouraged the other warrior in his efforts. Radditz scowled, displaying clenched teeth, and launched himself at the Commander; after a brief scuffle, he was once more blasted into the wall.
"You son-of-a-third-class loser!" hollered Zarbon, clearly enjoying itself. "You low on chocolate, Radditz? Didn't Bra pack enough for you?"
"Baka yaro!" screamed Radditz. "You leave her out of this, you green-haired evolutionary misfit!"
Zarbon burst into peals of laughter. "Oh, ho, monkey-boy; touched a nerve! What else are you missing besides chocolate, eh?"
Howling, Radditz flung himself out of the training room and at Zarbon. The alien held up one flattened hand, glowing faintly with energy; Radditz came to a crashing halt a foot away, sliding down a sparking ki shield and sitting on the floor, blinking absurdly. Sighing, Zarbon knelt in front of him. "How many times do I have to tell you," it demanded of Radditz, its voice calm and pleasant, "don't let yourself be goaded into attacking without a plan? Honestly. Have you even tried any of those meditation techniques I've so laboriously explained to you over the years? You're at a higher level now, Radditz; control is more important than ever."
"I'm really tired," returned Radditz, his voice just as calm and even a little hurt, "of having you lecture me on control. You have no idea, moron. I owe Bra a life debt, Zarbon. If you were the Prince himself, I would have to come after you for an insult to her."
"I'm sorry," the alien said after a moment. "You're right. It was unfair of me to bring her up. In a real battle, though, your enemy is not going to respect your tender feelings."
"Oh, stop it." Beginning to look annoyed, Radditz got to his feet. "I'm not your student, Zarbon; I've been in battles for decades. I can deal with this."
The alien lowered its eyes and said, mildly, "But I worry about you. There you are, all alone in the universe, with nothing but a weak Earth woman to protect you. It's too, too pathetic, Rad-kun."
After a pause, Radditz crossed his big muscular arms. "This is me not being goaded, Zarbon. So cut it out."
"Better," agreed the alien with one of those sudden, flashing smiles. There were snickers and a smattering of sarcastic applause from some of the watching warriors. Zarbon swept a mocking bow (more applause) and walked away. Radditz growled something not in Standard or even in the widely-used Southern dialect that garnered a few outright laughs and turned back to Nappa.
The Commander said, his voice surprisingly chilly, "I've had enough. Come with me, warrior." Nappa saw Radditz's brows go up slightly, then the warrior obediently fell into step behind him as the Commander led the way to his private quarters.
Ho, thought Radditz as he walked into Nappa's quarters. The Commander would throw a fit if he knew Zarbon's suite was bigger than his! He folded his arms and set his legs wide apart, standing at attention just inside the doorway as Nappa walked into one of the inner rooms, trying not to grin. In truth, Zarbon would cede his quarters to the Commander without any quarrel. Zarbon was fond of gems and smooth textiles, but his years as a mercenary made him indifferent to physical surroundings; he was always ready to grab the essentials and race to the next battle. Of course, a Saiyan's concept of essentials usually did not include two capes and several sets of color-coordinated arm sheaths--!
"Is this the Earth woman you owe the life debt to?" demanded Nappa, thrusting something in his face.
Radditz pulled his head back slightly to focus on what proved to be a crumpled, flimsy picture. "No, that's Bulma. You remember her, Commander; the pale one with the mouth? Bra is her--" his voice started to trail off -- "mother..." He stared at what Bulma was wearing, flashing back to those preposterous shows Bra liked to watch. The ones where people did nothing but talk and get married. A lot.
"The one you thought Vegeta was trying to impress." The Commander turned the picture around to scowl at it. "I see it, now that you mention it. I didn't recognize her with that ridiculous blue hair covered up. Warrior, what the hell is the matter with you?"
"I've been in my future wife's mind, Radditz."
"She's wearing--" No. He didn't. He didn't really. He's the Heir; no matter what he feels, he still can't -- Well, what if he did, Radditz? How legal is an Earth ceremony? Dammit, they don't even have a moon on that world any more! It can't count...
"Warrior, I asked you a question. What about her attire?"
After a pause where he frantically searched for the right words, "Any question you have about Bulma," said Radditz, formally, "will have to be directed to the Prince, Commander. I would not presume to discuss Vegeta's -- choices."
There was a narrow-eyed stare from Nappa. "That will be all, warrior."
Radditz saluted and pivoted out of the room. In the hallway he tried reaching Zarbon, first on the scouter, then extending a psychic tendril but, as always, his mental probe went unheeded. Dammit! What's going on? Gnawing on his lower lip, Radditz finally headed toward Zarbon's quarters, determined to get some answers.
They were in the middle of a meal, Vegeta muttering darkly about aliens and their peculiar habits as he studied yet another set of specialized customs for one of the more persnickety Associate Worlds, when he bolted upright and yelped, "You dare!"
Zarbon started, wondering if he had accidentally kicked Vegeta under the table. But the Prince was not paying any attention to him. After that one outburst, Vegeta's brows pulled together as his gaze turned inward, as if he were listening to something internally. And he might be. He looks like that, sometimes, when he's doing the mind thing...
A short snorting sound came from Vegeta, and his eyes suddenly focused on his aide. He snapped the small hand-held screen next to his plate shut, tossing it to Zarbon. "Nappa," he responded to Zarbon's questioning look. "Have you been more than usually rude to him, Zarbon? He's in a mood. A near-suicidal one, I'd say; imagine, instigating mental contact with the Heir! He better have a good reason for this, or he's going out the nearest airlock."
"Oh, he's probably teed off that I interrupted his training bout with Radditz. Radditz was getting so riled he kept forgetting to block, so I gave him someone else to focus on. I have such a calming effect on him. He's still having problems figuring out how to use his new power level effectively, so--"
"I can not begin to tell you how little I care about some fledging Elite's problems," snapped Vegeta. "If that's what Nappa's coming to quibble about, I'll toss all three of you out an airlock!"
The bloody alien was everywhere. Nappa frowned at the creature, sitting at its ease at the Prince's table amidst the ruins of what looked like a much better meal than any he was getting. Zarbon smiled, showing its tiny, perfect white teeth. Feh. What pathetic canines. What is it with the Prince and aliens?
"What can't wait, Nappa?" snapped the Prince.
Nappa pulled the picture out of his arm-guard and slapped it down on the table between the two. Zarbon glanced down indifferently, then stared a second before its face wiped clean of all expression. "Where--?"
"You were careless. You dropped it in the hallway after Vegeta came back from Chikyuu."
The alien looked across at Vegeta. The Prince said, coldly, "Your point?"
"I should ask what yours is, Vegeta. What are you doing with images of this creature? And what is the significance of her garb? Radditz went completely incoherent when he saw this."
Vegeta raised a brow at the alien. "I'll handle Radditz," Zarbon said, a touch of alarm in its voice.
"He should enjoy that," murmured the Prince sardonically.
"The King says," Nappa continued as if neither had spoken, "that you are modifying your palaces, installing gravitational machines. He thinks you've developed a taste for Earth women."
"Ve-ge-ta," the alien said, drawing the Prince's name out with a hint of reproach.
"What?" demanded the Prince, crossly. "Do you know how long things like that take? I didn't. It'll still be months before--" Then he cut himself off, scowling at Nappa. "What I chose to do with my own residences is none of your concern, Commander. If my father has questions, he may ask them."
"If he asks nicely," Zarbon said gently, "perhaps Vegeta will shunt a dozen or so Earth females his way. Or were you interested in this one, Commander?"
Vegeta glared at his trainer in marked irritation. The alien's cheeks suddenly went a deeper shade of blue; Zarbon dropped its eyes. "Sorry," it muttered. "I'm shutting up now."
"It is none of my concern," said Nappa, eyeing Zarbon as he bit off cold words at the Prince, "if you want to enlarge your stable, Vegeta. What concerns me is your lack of Saiyan females."
Zarbon, forgetting that it just promised to shut up, said with sudden heat, "There's no point in him being interested in Saiyan females, is there? If he looked at any sideways they'd be carved up into mindless automatons! With the number the King himself has mutilated, it's a wonder the race survives!"
"Do not dare to mock the King's choices! It's an honor to be chosen for the harem--"
"A pity the King doesn't take a fancy to you, Nappa, and rid us all of your endless arrogance! How dare you question Vegeta on his personal life?"
"At least the King knows what a Saiyan female is. Maybe we should just dye one blue, eh? Vegeta does," Nappa said pointedly, "have a thing for blue, doesn't he?"
Zarbon shot to its feet, but Vegeta suddenly brought a flat hand down on the table. Plates and cups rose a foot in the air before clattering back. Nappa and Zarbon both jumped, looking at Vegeta's angry, stern face. Zarbon took in a breath and sat down again. Nappa, abruptly recollecting himself, started to stammer out an explanation, but--
"Excuse me," said Zarbon, cold and ridiculing, "but if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, then surely I would be prostrate with jealousy over Vegeta's proposed addition of concubines? Have a care, Nappa, of what you accuse the Prince."
Vegeta's tone was frigid and smooth. "He can't accuse me of anything." He faced Nappa, arms crossed, visage hard. "I will be King, Nappa. You may not question the King."
"Right now all you are is the King's brat," Nappa snapped. "The training of the Heir falls under my provenance, Vegeta. This fascination you have with aliens has gone far enough. It is unbecoming a Saiyan warrior."
"Do not dare," said the Prince softly, "to tell me what is or isn't becoming, Nappa. And be very careful what you say about my bonded mate."
Nappa's jaw dropped. He stared in blank astonishment at Zarbon.
"Oh, Vegeta..." The alien put a hand to its brow, rubbing the bridge of its nose. "Try not be a complete moron," it said to Nappa, wearily. "My kind don't 'bond,' Commander. Thank the gods."
"That anemic Chikyuu creature?" gasped Nappa. "Are you insane?"
The alien's mouth tightened and pursed as it glanced over at the Heir. "I think you've just outlived your meager entertainment value, Commander."
The boy was beginning to look--exercised. Nappa tried to adopt a stern, fatherly tone, the one he occasionally used with his sons when they were behaving in a manner unsuited to their father's rank. "Vegeta, don't delude yourself just because you got a little itchy under the armor. There is no such thing as 'bonding.' It's a fairy tale the off-world troops invented to excuse their uncontrolled breeding."
Zarbon burst out laughing, but there was a dangerous, unamused edge to the sound. "Oh, you're a fine one to criticize anyone's breeding habits!"
Nappa spat, "The race is improved by the blood of the nobility, creature. But clearly even the nobility can be contaminated by extended exposure to the likes of you. You've so corrupted the Prince he is hardly even Saiyan any more."
The Prince's eyes flashed. He held up two fingers; power began to swirl around him. "Nappa, I am more than Saiyan," he said, coolly. "I am the Foreseen One, the Legendary Super-Saiyan. And soon, I will be Vejiitasei."
Nappa started, "The King is--"
And stopped, staring at the Prince in dawning realization. "No. Vegeta, it's too soon!"
"Or too late," said the Prince; the fingers leveled at him. "Depends on your perspective."
A narrow beam of ki slammed against his chest; armor cracked as he was flung against the bulkhead wall. Nappa's knees refused to lock, and he slid down and collapsed on the floor. "No," he moaned, "you forget yourself, I won't let you--"
The Prince walked over to him, resting a booted foot against his stomach. "Won't let, Nappa?" Vegeta repeated quietly, one brow raised. The Prince reached down, wrapped his fingers on either side of Nappa's head, and shoved back. Nappa was aware of a dull thud as his head struck the wall, then he knew no more.
Zarbon asked in an even, unemotional voice, "Do you want me to finish him off?"
Regretfully, Vegeta shook his head. "No. This is going to be a difficult transition, Zarbon. The tribal leaders won't care about my father, but they'll be all over me as soon as they find out I've married an outworlder. I might have to kill half the wretches before I can force oaths of fealty out of the survivors. Might as well keep the Commander in place until all the shouting dies down." He turned away from the Commander's body. "Put him in a regen tank. Make sure he is not let out until we get to Vejiitasei." Then he turned and smiled tightly at Zarbon, his eyes hard. "Controlled enough for you?"
"Oh, yes. You've demonstrated very impressive ki control since we've left Chikyuu. Which is more than I can say about your patience, Vegeta."
"You're cross about the palaces, aren't you?"
"An act of supreme carelessness, Vegeta."
"And who was it waving pictures of my wedding around in a public place?"
Zarbon winced. "Aiee, you're right, of course. I've gotten too much into the habit of treating Nappa like he's invisible." He looked down at Nappa's comatose body, sharp lines beginning to bracket his eyes, his mouth. "As conspirators, Vegeta, I think we make good warriors. What a mess."
"Not yet, Zarbon. Remember, no one is expecting this of me for decades to come. Whatever anyone may suspect;" Vegeta smiled grimly, showing all of his teeth; "it is not that I am about to become King. You," he told Zarbon, coldly, "need to rein in your friend, Zarbon."
"Radditz isn't a threat."
"I will trust your judgment on that," agreed Vegeta after a moment, his voice hard. He looked up at Zarbon with piercing eyes. "He is nothing to me, Zarbon. You I -- value. Yet if anything you do results in harm to my mate--"
Zarbon blinked, not entirely sure, but thinking it barely possible Vegeta had just given him some sort of compliment. "I understand. I'll talk to Radditz. After I haul Nappa's fat head to the infirmary. You leave me all the glamorous jobs, my Prince."
"Baka."
Zarbon was not surprised to see him. The alien's eyes tracked to him immediately, the golden gaze cool and shielded. So much for ambush. Radditz stepped out of the shadows. "What has Vegeta done?" he demanded.
The thin brows arched. "Well, about twenty minutes ago, he put a hole through Nappa for impertinence," replied Zarbon, his tone that inflectionless one usually reserved for the Commander. "I don't know what he's been up to since then. If you feel like volunteering for target practice, Radditz, go ask him yourself."
"Zarbon, the royalty can't--"
"Radditz," the alien said, gently, impersonally, "the royalty is the royalty. It is not the place for common soldiers to question what they do, is it?"
"No," Radditz gritted. "But Bulma--"
"I suggest," said Zarbon, "that you forget what-ever it is you think you know, Radditz. Right now, I am the only thing standing between you and Vegeta's wrath. If he perceives that you are any sort of threat, Radditz -- any sort -- I will not be able to save you. I've already had to mourn your loss once this year. I would rather not have to go through that again." The thin lips curved slightly. "Don't look so frustrated, my friend. Bulma is on Chikyuu, no? What harm can she do from there?"
Radditz scowled at him -- 'friend'! Curse it, if he calls me that one more time -- but found some mental qualm quieting. Zarbon was right, of course. What if the Prince had married the mouthy Earth bitch? She was far away from the center of the Empire and, in any event, she would succumb to old age long before Vegeta came to power. The sheer distance meant he couldn't visit her that often without raising suspicion; he would be lucky to get back to Chikyuu every other year, luckier still to find the feckless human hadn't taken some other mate in the meantime. There was no threat here, just Vegeta acting strange and eccentric. And, unquestionably, thought Radditz as he looked into Zarbon's clear eyes, bonding did make one do strange, eccentric things. The mental qualm leapt up again; that's why it's so dangerous; but Radditz again put it aside. "Eh, what do I care what the Prince does with his spare time?" he queried out loud, his manner suddenly bored. "I don't. I'm famished, Zarbon. Let's go eat."
After a steady stare, Zarbon's face shifted subtly. "I just ate, actually." Then he smiled. "I could be talked into dessert."
Read The Chikyuu Contaminant: Chapter Thirty-Two
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