Chapter 21

Although he did not understand how the contraptions worked, Youkan could still discern differences between Saiyan and non-Saiyan regeneration tanks. As far as he could tell, the lights that flashed in irregular patterns and the strange, rhythmic pulses that marked steady life signs were as on a Saiyan tank. The main variances were aesthetic. Rather than the sharp squared-off edges common in Saiyan design, the gentle curves he previously noted elsewhere in the compound were incorporated into the machine's framework.

Of course, the biggest difference was the beasts tending the tanks. There wasn't a humanoid among them, unless one counted a handful of vaguely biped things. Most were scaly or warty. A few oozed from tank to tank as they made their rounds. Youkan had to grit his teeth when one seeped near Kimchee's tank, exuded a pseudopod toward the controls for some minute adjustment, then flowed on its way. While Youkan was fairly liberal when it came to humanoid non-Saiyan life forms, he was as contemptuous as any other Saiyan when it came to non-humanoid non-Saiyan life forms. If any kernel of his psyche was grateful that Kimchee was receiving such solicitous care, it was buried under the resentment that she was in a tank at all. Floating in suspended animation as she was tended by things was no place for a Saiyan warrior.

A breath of a step fell next to him. Without turning to see who it was, Youkan queried, "You say she isn't injured. Why this, then?"

"They trust me to keep you under control, little brother," replied Taurus as he regarded the hair-shrouded form of his sister-in-law adrift in the tank. "I'm afraid I was unable to offer any such guarantees where your bond-mate was concerned."

Youkan cast a sideways glance at his brother's profile. "Why would you call her that?"

There was a brief delay in the reply. "Well, look at her," said his brother, coolly. "No offense, but she's obviously low-class, and she carries the taint on top of it. There's no good reason for you to be married to her. So it must be a bad reason, eh?"

His instinct was to bristle at the implied insult. However, he was mindful both of his precarious position in this non-Saiyan place and of the fact that the usual edge of scorn he expected from other Saiyans was absent in his brother's even tones. Carefully keeping his face blank, Youkan nodded. "I will act as surety for her."

"I will mention that," responded Taurus agreeably. "I must point out, however, that as long as she is in a tank, she acts as surety for you."

Deliberately, Youkan turned his back to Kimchee's still form, studying his older brother clinically. Despite the odd-colored armor and the white cloak pushed over his shoulders, no-one would mistake Taurus for anything other than a Saiyan warrior. Even without the tail tucked tidily around his waist, the strong slopes and angles of Taurus' face combined with the coarse tufts of black hair to proclaim his heritage. Yet Taurus held a position of power in this foreign force, evident in the alacrity with which others followed his most casual order. That sort of authority indicated a long-standing history. "How came you here? Why didn't you let any of us know where you are?"

"Long, tedious story, little brother," replied the other. "As for letting you know — once I decided to remain here, there appeared to be little point to it. Most Saiyan families disown expatriates. I decided to skip that step."

"Father misses you. Long after the rest of us gave you up for lost, he held out hope."

Ignoring Youkan to stare at the tank, Taurus displayed no reaction to the information.

"And Mother —"

"Yes, I know she searched for me," interrupted Taurus. "I have been in contact with Father, Youkan. I asked him to call her off. Since Lord Freeza has not sent me any reports recently on Eastern scouts nosing about, I assume she received the message."

"More likely, you have become redundant. There's another heir for her tribe now," said Youkan, bluntly.

"Ah, the tender sentiments of Saiyan parents," murmured Taurus. "If one child doesn't turn out the way you want, throw him away and replace him with another." Youkan's gaze turned puzzled. Taurus's lips edged up into an ironic smile. "Yes, I know, that's just the way things are. Never mind, little brother."

"You are still the official heir. You can always —"

"As one of Lord Freeza's enforcers, I'm very much in demand, Youkan. I don't need an obscure Eastern prefecture to pad out my resume."

— I don't plan on settling for some obscure prefecture on this soft continent —

Youkan scowled, wondering where these strange echoing whispers in his head kept springing from. Maybe that stasis gas has longer lasting effects than Taurus let on... He turned back to the tank, hoping Kimchee's extended unnecessary immobilization wouldn't inflict her with even worse side effects.

Next to him, there was a muted tone from Taurus' scouter. His older brother tapped a response against the side of the machine. "My master calls," Taurus said, politely. "Excuse me."

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Gohan had probably been sprinting through the trees screaming like an idiot for a good five minutes before he remembered that he could fly. He blamed his lapse on the fact that the multi-horned/antlered/whatevered thing chasing him kept snapping at his tail as slaver dripped from its dark, needle-like fangs. It was hard to think when your tail was in imminent danger. After one close pass where the animal's hot breath made him feel like his fur was on fire, Gohan flicked the appendage to the front of his body and, wrapping the tip around one wrist, finally felt safe enough to remember to think. Leaving his feet, he tried to out-race the creature through the trees.

Of course, there were also problems with flying in a densely-packed old-growth forest. The "densely-packed" part, for instance. He could dodge between the trunks easily enough, but the over-hanging canopy kept him from gaining enough height to get out of fang reach. Plus the beast, besides cornering very efficiently on its four broad hooves, knew where it was going. Gohan kept having to make second-by-second adjustments in the unfamiliar, tight quarters, while the animal appeared to sprint all-out not heeding any twist Gohan tried to add to its path. Throwing despairing glances up as he swerved this way and that, Gohan could see no break in the canopy that would allow him to make a quick, graceful exit.

He could make his own exit easily enough, but his attacks did not include many tight-beamed ones such as Mr. Piccolo possessed. Like those of his father, most of Gohan's ki-based bursts were blunt and big. Blast it, I'm going to bring down half the forest. And Pointy here is just not giving up! Gotta be another way...

"Gohan!"

Hearing the thin cry from above, Gohan's head snapped upwards. He promptly careened through the bushy part of a low-hanging branch, nearly corkscrewed out of control as he spit out leaves and twigs, and barely escaped when he felt the wet pinch of fangs just grazing his ankle. Trunks?! Trunks! Suddenly new possibilities ripped through his head; there was a way to get away without anyone (or anything) getting hurt too badly. "Trunks!" he screamed, hoping the other boy could hear him through the blanketing brush. "That you? Listen! Listen to me, Trunks!"

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Since he was expecting to be summoned the only surprise as far as Zarbon was concerned was that it took nearly two days before it happened. He had been braced for accusations during his last several meetings with the King. The late-night, curt message that the King required him now made Zarbon smile in grim relief. You should read your briefings more than once in a while, Vegeta. She wasn't that far away from Vejiitasei. It's too late to countermand the order. He flicked a glance at himself as he passed a mirror, gently laying a finger alongside the jewel dangling from his tiara to straighten it while ignoring the basic Saiyan armor that had been his regular dress since he became liaison. There was nothing he could do about the inherent lack of style Saiyan uniforms possessed, but his pride in his personal appearance didn't have to be completely sacrificed for his rank. He turned his head, making sure the pale ear drops weren't caught on anything, then straightened his broad shoulders and resolutely set out for the King's quarters.

Chishan scowled at him, jerking a chin toward the private quarters. "I don't know what you've done, but if you have next of kin—"

"Oh, my 'kin' gave up on me the day I started hanging out with Saiyans," Zarbon drawled as he passed the King's Captain. He ignored the smothered snort, perceiving that it was more amusement than typical Saiyan disgust. After working closely for several years, he and Chishan understood each other very well.

Inside, Zarbon had to go deep into the personal quarters until he found Vegeta in a characteristic pose, arms crossed against his chest, back to the room as he stared out the balcony windows toward the capitol. Knowing full well that Vegeta realized he was there and was making him wait, Zarbon put his hands against the small of his back and stood at attention, refusing to be goaded into any premature comments.

Without acknowledging his liaison, "I do not believe that I requested any recalls," Vegeta finally remarked. "Nappa is not happy that you interfered with what is supposed to be his responsibility."

So he didn't read the briefs, Nappa clued him in. I should have guessed. "Nappa finds my very existence a source of constant dismay."

"Nappa does not understand why you recalled that particular squad. I hope you do not imagine I am so thick, Zarbon."

"I do not imagine anyone is as thick as the Commander, my King."

Vegeta turned from the balcony. Zarbon was surprised, and a little dismayed, to find a smile of cold amusement set against the firm mouth. "It was a clever move, my former trainer, but do not think it will keep me on Vejiitasei."

"There is a commando squad with an Elite-level soldier now available for the mission," Zarbon pointed out. "There is no reason for you to go."

"Zarbon, if strength is what is required, I will not find that here."

No. His hands dropped to his sides as despair crowded into the forefront of his brain. Zarbon took a cleansing, centering breath, but the dark tendrils remained. It's been so long, I thought he had forgotten...

"I can now claim a greater skill level in demolishing drones than I previously possessed," Vegeta continued, "but I have not increased in power since the brat's birth."

"Perhaps you've topped out," said Zarbon, fear making him blunt.

"While it's true that I have far surpassed the birth estimates of my ultimate fighting strength, I am decades from maturity, Zarbon. I shouldn't 'top out' until then." Vegeta's smile broadened at the distress scrolling across Zarbon's visage. "You know it's true, Zarbon. I will not become the Super-Saiyan playing with Bulma's toys." Vegeta added, softly. "I have become as strong as I can become here. I must return to the battle to achieve my birthright."

"You are King, Vegeta. That is your birthright."

"Kings come and go. The Foreseen One — he is unique. And Bulma's brat is strong, Zarbon. Almost as strong as I was at his age." Vegeta's tone was reflective as he slowly pivoted to the window. "The strong — chafe easily."

As I did. Although the phrase was unspoken, Zarbon's own mind provided it. He stretched out a hand to Vegeta, then let it drop. The King was being pragmatic, not looking for sympathy. Zarbon found refuge in the pragmatic as well. "I insist that Riiki's squad goes on the mission."

"Insist on whom-ever you like to accompany me," said Vegeta, indifferent to Zarbon's concern and dismay. "If there is any worthy opponent on this mission, I will do battle." He glanced over his shoulder at Zarbon, his gaze steady. "Not all the Elites on Vejiitasei will be able to prevent me."

And that, reflected Zarbon, was nothing more than the simple truth. If the King was indifferent to tradition and duty, there was no one on Vejiitasei strong enough to constrain him to pay attention to either.

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Bardock returned from his training bout bloodstained, his armor half torn off, a feral smile curving his mouth. He stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face shadowed with his eyes gleaming cat-like as he stared at Riiki. "You let them beat up on you again," Riiki remarked in mock disgust. "Eh, I'm mated to a man with no pride."

"They got the worst of it," retorted Bardock. "Toma's going to be limping for a week. Assuming he regains consciousness anytime in the next two weeks." He stepped inside the small house, purposefully, not taking his steady eyes off his mate. "That means," he purred, "there's no chance in hell he's going to call me for a rematch today."

Folding her arms across her chest, Riiki regarded him sardonically. A good bout was always likely to make Bardock...energetic. Not that she had any complaints when he hadn't been fighting. "I doubt you're in any shape to try a round with me, little man."

Growling low in his throat, Bardock slammed the door behind him and advanced. Smiling cruelly, albeit with some inner regret, Riiki held up a hand. "We have Gohan today, remember? And the Prince as well. I'm no expert on Earthlings, but I get the feeling that they are as prissy about sex as everything else. I don't want Kakarott's mate or the Queen yelling at us because we advanced the education of their little ones a bit too much." Braking, Bardock growled again, this time in obvious disappointment. After letting him stew briefly, Riiki narrowed her eyes and added, "Mind you, I doubt they will be back until this afternoon. If you can drag up enough strength to pin me, I just might consider —"

Bardock's reaction was far different than what she anticipated. Instead of pouncing, "'Back'?" her mate snapped. Everything in his body language altered. Abruptly she was faced with one irate military commander who obviously thought she had failed in an assignment. "You mean, they aren't here?"

"They went to the lake."

"You let them go by themselves? Riiki, you're supposed to be looking after them."

Riiki said, with irrefutable logic, "If they were like any other Saiyan brats, they would be on a mission looking after themselves."

"The Heir is not like any other Saiyan brat. This is no way to treat the Heir."

That struck a chord, but Riiki still perversely snapped, "It's Radditz's duty to watch the Royal brat. He's off with that Earth woman."

"Because he thinks you're watching the boys."

"The Heir ordered me not to follow them, Bardock. Am I supposed to disobey the Heir?" In spite of her irritation, Riiki found the smile returning. "He makes a fine prince, that one. For all he looks like an Earth brat, he has a Saiyan's fire."

Glowering, Bardock ignored the latter comments and focused on the first part of Riiki's statement. "You're supposed to do whatever is in the Heir's best interests, even if it means your life, Riiki," he said, coldly. "While I think Gohan is quite capable of taking care of himself, the Heir is young and untried. Have you considered the consequences should anything happen to him while he is in our care? Vegeta would exterminate the entire tribe, perhaps the entire continent, and then turn on Earth and Kakarott for good measure."

Riiki did not care much about either Bardock's tribe or the Earth, but she felt she had some small investment in Kakarott, disappointment though he was, and harbored some even smaller hope that his as-yet unborn second offspring might prove a good warrior, perhaps even a good Saiyan warrior. With a scowl, she brushed past her mate and wrenched open the door.

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The Heir's heart was pounding. He was gasping like he had been sprinting, and sweating like he had, too. He hurt in strange places that had nothing to do with physical exertion. His temples throbbed, and he was listening so hard that his ears ached.

The route was easy enough to follow with just his eyes. The backwash generated as Gohan raced pell-mell through the forest acted like a tracer. The energy whipped up by the Earth-Saiyan rustled the topmost branches of the thick forest creating a distinct, albeit temporary, path. The hard part was changing direction as the trail looped and backtracked erratically.

Listening to Gohan screaming was even harder. Then Gohan stopped screaming, and the Heir experienced fears no Saiyan could articulate. The irregular, jerking path through the forest continued, however, so something was still racing at top speeds below. Trunks couldn't possibly start shooting without a target, he might hit Gohan, and besides he didn't know if he could fly and fire ki blasts at the same time. Fat lot of good he would do his friend if he just shot himself out of the sky!

Now the trail was going in jerking squared-off circles. If that's Gohan, he's really lost. Trunks pulled up near the circle's center, spinning as he continued to track the bending, rustling leaves with his eyes. Everything was happening too fast. He had no idea what to do. "Gohan!" he shouted down in despair. "Gohan?! Can you hear me? Gohan!"

The reply was muffled by the enveloping canopy. " — at you? Listen! Listen to me, Trunks!"

I'm trying to, thought the little boy as he hovered, tilting his body until he was hanging upside-down in an effort to get his ears closer to Gohan.

"—cliffs by the lake—!" he could make out. Righting himself, Trunks gained altitude, looking back toward the lake, trying to find "cliffs." The path of Gohan's dash was roughly inland; however, he had traveled in a direction that was leading to an intersection with an encroaching finger of water. There were no beaches there, but high sheer walls that Trunks supposed qualified as "cliffs."

"I see them!" he shouted back.

What he could catch of the next muffled shout had something to do with getting "its" attention. Mouth agape, Trunks frantically considered the problem as the rustling path of Gohan's progress abruptly broke out of its circular holding pattern and struck off in a new direction that appeared to be heading away from the cliffs. Gohan's in front, right? Then the thing chasing him is in back somewhere... The Heir pointed one hesitant finger, following the head of the path then letting his finger drag until it was well behind what should be Gohan. Squeezing his eyes closed, he concentrated with all of his might and tried to focus his ki into a blast like those he had seen his father create.

In the next instant, with a startled "yipe," Trunks was tumbling head-over-heels in the opposite direction from his attempted ki strike. Shaking his head, he forced a sharp, jarring halt, reminding himself to compensate for the energy recoil next time. He looked down between his feet, expecting a huge hole in the forest from the force of the blast.

No hole greeted his gaze. I missed the entire forest? Trunks decided he was going to insist on ki training from Zarbon as soon as he got back to the palace.

The forest fell still. Nothing was moving, except for a faint rustle right under him. There was no sound, expect for a faint, repetitive dull 'thump.' Cool sweat broke over Trunks' brow. Did I kill him? I killed Gohan! "Gohan!" he screamed.

The rustling became a sway. There was a last 'thump,' then a sharp cracking noise. Meters below him, one of the tall forest trees tilted wildly before it crashed to the ground, taking down several other trees with it. Trunks did not have vision as acute as other Saiyans, but his eyesight was far better than that of a human child. He could clearly see the massive beast wrest its antlers from the base of the fallen tree, then raise its blunt nose with the single adorning horn to the sky. Placing its sharp hooves on the bark and taking a stance on top of the tree, it bellowed a challenge at the distant speck floating overhead.

Hot anger overtook Trunks. "You — you stupid thing! You can't do anything to me! I'm the Prince!" He brought his hands cupped in front of him, hoping the recoil this time wouldn't send him flailing into the next continent yet determined to come up with something big enough to eradicate the animal stomping its hooves at him.

"Trunks, no!" came a shout, far clearer now that some of the blanketing canopy had been removed. "Don't blow anything up! Just get it to the cliffs!"

Relief ran through him. I didn't hurt him! Gohan's okay! Dropping his hands, he smiled coldly at the bellowing animal. "You think I'm dinner or something?" he taunted. "Gotta catch me first!" Spinning, he headed for the cliffs.

With a final aggressive bellow, the animal leapt off the fallen tree in pursuit of its new prey.

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Gohan bent over, hands curved around his knees, eyes scrunched closed, chest heaving as he tried to drag air into tight, burning lungs. Trunks' 'blast' had been barely more than a spark, but the impact of the narrow beam pitted the ground right in front of the animal, directing its attention to the new threat overhead. It seemed to be a very single-minded beast. Promptly forgetting about Gohan, it whirled and rammed its head into a tree trunk, again and again, until the tree fell under the assault and it could confront its new enemy. Grimacing, Gohan opened one eye to regard the damage he had been trying to avoid. Well, that's not too bad, I suppose. We can just pretend a lightning strike brought the tree down, or something.

A hiss of an alien thought stroked through his brain. Oh, well done, I would say. You didn't destroy acres of forest to bring down one poor beast, and you forced the Heir to consider strategy over brute strength. Not bad, little hybrid. Not bad at all.

"Thanks," replied Gohan evenly, "but don't think that will make me pay attention to you."

You will not be able to run away from me forever, boy.

Gohan ruthlessly slammed shut a mental door, and imagined with some satisfaction that he heard a supernatural yelp of pain as he did so.

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In front of the communication screen in his private quarters, Taurus struck a formal position of attention as pixels flickered and aggregated into the image of his master. His stance was not lost on Lord Freeza. It was an acknowledgement that Taurus expected a reprimand, perhaps worse, and was prepared to accept it. Smiling slightly, Freeza placed one finger over his lips, his overall expression indicating nothing other than general good-will. "The orders were, no survivors," he chided, the soft voice amiable.

"When I realized Youkan was part of the Saiyan force, I was overcome by sentimentality," responded Taurus promptly. "Having spent some time with my younger brother, however, I am now feeling considerably less sentimental. If you wish him eliminated —"

"No," said Freeza, still with that faint, non-committal smile. "As it happens, this unexpected turn has played into my hands. My father is beginning to think another summit between the powers is an idea worth pursuing. Plus it puts the Saiyan King in an awkward place, politically. That amuses me. You are very fortunate, warrior," he added, gently, "that I have received amusement out of your bout of nostalgia."

Taurus bowed deeply in acknowledgement as his Master's face faded from the screen. Then he waited.

Within minutes, the screen blipped back on, the image resolving into delicate blue-hued features. "You play a dangerous game," snapped Yuzun.

"Well, of course. I am Saiyan. It's the only sort of game my kind know to play," replied Taurus as his lips curved faintly upward. "As you see, I am unscathed. Relax."

Yuzun gave a petulant toss of his head, sending the blue-green braid flying over his shoulder. "What purpose does this serve? I thought you wanted the brats dead."

"As was explained to me shortly before I left Vejiitasei, the deaths of my siblings will not accomplish my ultimate goal. Their lives, however, may be of some use in the future." Lowering his eyes, Taurus mused, as if simply contemplating an abstract problem, "New dynasties often rely on strong family ties during the establishment stage. A grateful brother or two might be just the ticket. For a while, anyway."

"Do not underestimate Freeza," Yuzun warned. "He knows you're up to something."

"Nothing that will obstruct my Master's plans," responded Taurus evenly. "I swore an oath to respect Freeza's interests, Yuzun. Saiyans take their oaths seriously. It takes a great deal to make a Saiyan violate an oath."

The golden eyes narrowed. "Which you are counting on, of course. You are subtle," commented Yuzun, "for a Saiyan."

"I think your previous sample size of Saiyans was a little limited," said Taurus softly. He regarded the screen with half-closed eyes. "Will you be coming here to help with the negotiations? I trust you will arrive in a more appropriate form."

"You are so conservative," replied Yuzun with a hint of mischief.

Taurus murmured, "Another Saiyan trait I am counting on."

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Running the creature off the cliff was surprisingly easy. All Trunks had to do was hover right in front of it as it scrabbled on the edge, stick his thumbs in his ears, and wiggle his fingertips at it. Fire appeared to ignite in the red eyes. It bellowed at him once, then made a great leap, opening its fanged mouth wide. Trunks felt the hot fetid breath against his face. Laughing in contempt, he sped backwards. For a moment the beast appeared to flail in mid-air, snapping futilely. Then gravity asserted itself. With a final bellow of rage, the animal plummeted. Following the descent with his eyes, Trunks gave a mocking farewell wave as the animal hit the lake's surface.

"Trunks!" Gohan nearly frightened him half to death by swooping to his side. "Finally caught up with you. Where — ?" Trunks pointed down. On the narrow mud flat next to the water, the animal picked its way out of the water. It shook the moisture off in a wide spray of droplets, then, no longer perceiving any threats, lumbered away from the boys, following the edge of the lake. "Wow, good job! I'm glad you came after me. I didn't have a clue what to do with it."

Trunks began to laugh in relief over the end of the crisis, then stopped because he had over-exerted himself and really didn't have enough air in his lungs to laugh that hard. "A lot of fuss over a stupid deer," he snorted out.

"That was a deer? Wow. It's sure different from deer on our planet."

"We have them in the Royal Bestiary," said Trunks between pants. He added, prosaically, "Papa blows them up sometimes after he's been fighting with Mom."

Gohan's face pulled into a small moue of distaste.

"You could have killed it."

It was more a question than a statement.

"I'm not hungry. Are you?"

"No."

"Then there was no reason to kill it," said Gohan. "You shouldn't kill things without a reason."

"That's not what Papa says."

"Your papa and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of stuff."

"But he's the King."

"I don't have to agree with someone just because of who they are." Gohan looked up at the suns, trying to judge the time. "We better get back to the beach if we're going to get any swimming in. Geez, and I threw clothes all over the place trying to distract that thing! Good thing Mom's not here, or she'd be really mad about that."

"Gohan."

"Hmm?"

"I can't swim," the Heir admitted.

Gohan grinned. "Don't worry about it. We can still have fun in the water."

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All Riiki and Bardock found when they tracked the boys down were two half-naked, giggling children splashing each other in the shallows.

"You worry too much," Riiki told her spouse scornfully.