Chapter 23

Getting her parents ready to go off-planet was as difficult as getting them to go anyplace. The lift-off schedule was immediately thrown out of whack when her father nearly left the palace without his gravity harness in place. Fortunately there was an entire squad of Queen's Guards assigned to protect Dr. Briefs against that very contingency. Dr. Briefs was turned back before setting foot on the gravity-laden surface of Vejiitasei. The boarding party was forced to wait as the Doctor (hopefully) made his way back to his quarters to search for the missing piece of equipment. Vegeta scowled into the distance; Zarbon tucked his chin down and closed his eyes, appearing as if he were half-asleep. The well-trained honor guards maintained their alert positions, eyes partially on the Palace as they waited for Dr. Briefs to emerge, partially on the members of the Royal family as they made sure no threats manifested on the tarmac of the landing pad.

While she grumbled about her father's absent-minded nature, the extra few minutes it gave Bulma with her mother was worthwhile. Not because they spent any quality time together, but because she got to watch Mrs. Briefs with Radditz, which was always both a puzzle and a treat. Right now her mother was standing close to the Saiyan, her hand on one of his crossed forearms as she spoke very earnestly. Radditz had his head dipped down, listening solemnly but with that sardonic quirk to his mouth. Bulma just knew he was getting a list of last-second instructions regarding the care and feeding (she thought sarcastically) of the Queen and the Prince. The bad part was, his sense of obligation to Mrs. Briefs meant he would try to carry out whatever those instructions were. Bulma resigned herself to being even more closely hemmed in for the next few weeks as Radditz made sure he honored his duty.

The Prince stood by her side, arms folded and feet planted wide apart, completely self-possessed, with only a faint crease between his brows whenever he glanced at Gohan to indicate he was experiencing any misgivings about his friend's imminent departure.

There were times Bulma did not know what to make of her son. Trunks had been a sweet-natured, happy, gurgling baby; he was growing up into a very self-possessed, solemn young boy. Most parents would have been proud and relieved, Bulma supposed. Looking back on her own adventuresome youth, she wondered how she had produced a child so conscious of his own dignity. Too many adults, she concluded. For her, discovering her little boy could get into food fights and abscond with air-cars was a bit of a relief. Studying Gohan's open face with its broad, Goku-like smile, she was aware of a twinge of melancholy. With the other boy's departure Trunks would return to his solitary existence. Worse, Bulma thought sourly, she would again bear the brunt of child-rearing. Conveniently forgetting that she had a legion of built-in baby-sitters and a surrogate relative in Zarbon, Bulma glanced toward the palace as she reminded herself that constant scowling would just imprint premature lines on her smooth skin.

"What's wrong?" Gohan asked.

He did it again. There were times when Gohan was as uncanny as Goku. Bulma pasted on the brightest smile she possessed. "Why would you think anything was wrong?"

"You've been sighing for the last ten minutes."

"Loudly," supplied Trunks.

"Oh." Bulma again turned her eyes toward the Palace as she checked for a sign of her father, sighing once more when it appeared that the elusive gravity harness had been more misplaced than usual. "I guess I'm just sad every one's leaving, Gohan. You especially, of course. Trunks won't have anyone to play with when you're gone."

"Mom," Trunks grumbled.

"There is another kid here," offered Gohan. "Not one of the camp kids. Someone Trunks' age."

Surprised, Bulma cast her gaze around, but all she could see were big, impassive Saiyans. And her mother, who stood on tiptoe to peck Radditz's cheek before hurrying to double-triple check on the pile of luggage being loaded into the ship.

"Not here here," Gohan said with a small grin. "Chieftain Nira has a little girl. Maybe she can come visit, sometimes."

"Gohan," Trunks grumbled. The Prince hunched his shoulders. "She doesn't know how to act properly," the Prince informed his mother, crossly.

There were few things he could have said to make Bulma more determined that the only other child Trunks' age on the planet had an open pass to the Palace. Even though she couldn't bring an immediate picture of Nira to mind, Bulma promptly said, "I'm sure Nira's little girl is just as darling as she is. I've been very remiss in not having her here more often. Perhaps she can even practice with you and Zarbon."

"Mom," Trunks grumbled again.

The appearance of Dr. Briefs saved the little boy from any more detailed protest. Bulma's father emerged from the palace earnestly talking to one of the head scientists, who kept bobbing its head in agreement as it keyed the Doctor's last-minute instructions into a small hand-held computer. "Remember," Dr. Briefs was saying sternly as he approached Bulma's position, "no field tests until you get the okay from me personally. The sort of damage we could do to the fabric of reality is almost incalculable. The equations have to be checked and re-checked, or else—"

Zarbon opened his eyes, his expression mildly alarmed.

As the scientist assured Dr. Briefs that they would under no circumstance tamper with potentially universe-altering equipment before his approval, Mrs. Briefs darted to her husband. "All systems go," she said brightly. Giggling, she added, "I've always wanted to say that!"

"Right, right," said Dr. Briefs, absently. He raised his free hand to adjust his glasses as he peered at Bulma through them. "Good people you have here," he told her. "You take care of them, right?"

"Of course, Dad." Bulma leaned forward to wrap her arms around her father, her eyes brighter than usual.

"Gohan, dear, it's time to go!" Mrs. Briefs called.

Gohan embraced the Prince. He was a head taller, and Trunks all but vanished in the bear hug. Hesitantly the Prince put his hands against the other's back, patting lightly as if not quite sure what else to do.

Gohan pulled away, grinning. "You need me, you know how to get in touch with me," he reminded Trunks. "I'm always going to be around to help you."

Trunks, his color high, sniffed. "I can help myself."

"Well, when you get stuck on your calculus homework, remember I've already had a year of it," responded Gohan, deliberately light.

"I can calculate exit velocities for sixteen different spacecraft," Trunks informed him haughtily. "In my head."

"Then you'll just have to call me to say 'hi' once in a while, huh?"

Snorting, Trunks stepped away from him and stood next to his mother as he set his face into impassive lines, watching with the appropriate expression of detachment as Gohan waved farewell to his uncle and stepped onto the landing platform with the Briefs.

_________________________________________________________

The round spacecraft soaring out of sight gave Zarbon a greater sense of relief than he expected to encounter. Gohan had been little trouble, but the Imperial In-Laws were a handful. For an intelligent man, Dr. Briefs' lack of common sense was startling. His inability to remember to don the gravity harness he himself had invented resulted in numerous near-death experiences, most of which he appeared oblivious of. Then there was the Imperial Mother-In-Law. Pandemonium attended her every move on Vejiitasei. Chieftain Miso still had his nose out of joint over some incident during Mrs. Briefs' visit to the Southern Continent. What had happened, Zarbon wasn't sure. Miso refused to be precise. The normally-sullen Shiruko howled with laughter when asked if he could explain his father's umbrage, making the liaison decide he really didn't want to know.

Fortunately the whole Youkan affair had deflected Miso's outrage.

Unfortunately the King was still disinterested in dealing with the whole Youkan affair.

Recalling "the Youkan affair" reminded Zarbon that the departure of the Imperial In-Laws didn't mean the end of his diplomatic problems. No, a new set of problems were looming, and with the King about to begin his public preparations for his departure from Vejiitasei, they couldn't be put off much longer.

The scouter set over his eye blipped a warning. Viewing the energy signature, Zarbon exhaled in a soft puff of air and schooled his face to one of polite neutrality as Nappa strode up the golden carpet toward the Royal party, his blunt-featured face thunderous.

Why is Nappa in a temper? Zarbon mentally ran through his actions of the last week in an attempt to recollect what he had done (besides the recall of Riiki's squad) that would annoy the Commander of the Armed Forces, and quickly narrowed the list down. Curse it all, I should have run it by him first. But it's just so cumbersome, going through him when I know exactly what needs to be accomplished...

Nappa bowed to the King and Queen, but his narrowed eyes were leveled at Zarbon. "Fleet Commander Shouga has just sent me a communiqué indicating she will be in the system within the next two days," he informed the King.

Vegeta's response was a bored, "So?"

"Yes," agreed Nappa, with a frank glare at Zarbon, "that's exactly what I want to know, my King."

This is not a good place for this. "Commander, I had a very solid reason for requiring her return. Come to my office and I'll be happy to provide you with an explanation—"

"I imagine," said Vegeta, still sounding bored, "that it was because she was the captain of my flagship before I became King. Naturally since I'm going off-world again she's the logical person to command the transport fleet."

Even though Zarbon would have preferred the Commander not find out in this manner, he found his mouth curving upward in appreciation. He so enjoyed it when Nappa's astonishment made him do the carp impersonation...

Nappa, however, was not the only one to hear the news.

"Off world?" Bulma stopped waving at the star-like sparkle that marked the last seen position of the Earth-bound ship and spun toward the King, her face bright and excited. "What a great idea! You know, I haven't seen a thing of the galaxy except for Vejiitasei. We can turn this into a great vacation."

Oh, perfect, thought Zarbon. If Vegeta would just wear a scouter, we could get messages to him privately and we wouldn't have problems like this! Of course, his response would be that it's my dense non-psychic reptilian brain that's the real problem.

Vegeta smirked coldly. His tail loosened from his waist, twitching behind him, making Zarbon wince in anticipation of a public shouting match. Oh, even more perfect. Why do they do this in front of Trunks? The poor kid is going to get a warped idea of relationships. "It's a mission, not a pleasure cruise, woman," snapped the King.

"Vegeta, I know we'll have to do diplomatic stuff, but wouldn't it be nice to just get away for a while?"

"Not that kind of mission," interjected Zarbon, amused yet with a thin crease of concern appearing between his brows as he eyed Vegeta's lashing tail. He tried to catch Vegeta's eye, to warn him with a small shake of this head that this was one battle that shouldn't be fought in public.

Vegeta chose not to understand Zarbon's message. Crossing his arms, the King stared coldly at his mate. "The natives of Koorim have foolishly refused to pay tribute and have defied several squads sent to remind them of their duties as an Associated World. We are done being patient with them. The planet is to be purged and offered to a species that better understands its responsibilities as a vassal of the Saiyan Empire. I will personally oversee this mission."

"Oh," said Bulma.

She turned to her son. "Trunks, you have several days worth of lessons to catch up on. I'll walk you to the classroom." The boy blinked his blue eyes, but obediently took the hand held out to him. The Queen's Guards closed in around the two as they walked away.

Zarbon said in surprise, "That went well. Better than I expected."

A grim, anticipatory smile curved Vegeta's mouth. "You know nothing," retorted the King.

_________________________________________________________

By sheer effort of will she not only made it to the private quarters but into the royal bathroom before she lost her breakfast.

—purged—the planet is going to be purged—

She pressed her cheek against the floor, fist tight against her mouth as nausea threatened again.

—the planet is going to be purged—

A euphemism. He was going there to kill people. Her husband was going to a planet to kill people.

And what the hell did you think the Saiyans were doing on all those missions Nappa organizes, square-dancing?

Curling in on herself, Bulma squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to remember her own reaction, the first time she laid eyes on Vegeta: the cold gaze, the impersonal cutting tone as he demanded to know how the capsules worked, how incredibly frightened and angry and impotent she had been. The memory refused to come except in hazy outlines. Too much had happened between them since then; her original impressions were now filtered through several years of experiences that had nothing to do with Vegeta's violent past as a clearer of planets.

A past he was obviously eager to return to.

What do I do? Kami help me, what do I do?

This was Vejiitasei, she reminded herself grimly. There was no God here.

She laced her fingers behind her neck, hiding her face between her elbows as she flexed into a miserable ball. What do I do? she thought again, helplessly. What can I do?

_________________________________________________________

"You look stressed," remarked Taurus. "More fuss involving domestic livestock? I thought everything would be easier on you once the Imperial In-Laws left for their own planet. Perhaps you are not cut out for the life of a Guard."

"Don't start with me. You will not believe what is happening," grouched Shiruko. "Anything on Youkan? Father is rattling cages left and right. Right now Mother is letting him do all the screaming since he has the higher rank, but I think she's getting impatient as well. All we need is for her to send her off-world tribals to retrieve Youkan and it all hits the fan."

"I've heard that he and his mate are being held at a station near the galactic border," said Taurus, non-committal.

Shiruko nodded perfunctorily.

"I can tell you're all broken up about our baby brother's predicament," Taurus added in a dry tone.

"What happens happens," shrugged Shiruko. "Off-world troops are expendable." Hardly had the words left him than a strange, almost angry cast hardened his features.

"What is it?" demanded Taurus.

"The King," said Shiruko, unemotionally, "has decided that the events on Koorim require his attention. His personal attention," the King's Guard almost spat, the veneer of indifference cracking violently.

"The King is going off-world?" Taurus said in surprise. One corner of his mouth pressed up. "How very... third-class of him."

"Yes," scowled Shiruko, "isn't it. Was there something in particular you wanted, or were you just amusing yourself? I trust I've been entertaining enough to tide you over for a while."

"Shiruko," started Taurus with concern in his voice, then paused. "I will get back to you about Youkan in a few hours," he promised. "Don't think about the King's decision too much, okay? It's not for underlings to question the decisions of Kings."

Shiruko, snorting, gave a curt farewell and terminated the connection.

_________________________________________________________

For several seconds Taurus stared at the blank communication screen, thick brows drawn down and nearly meeting over his nose. A slim pale hand was placed on his shoulder. At the touch, Taurus stirred. "Interesting," murmured the Saiyan.

"Very," agreed the figure behind him. Absently running slim fingers up and down Taurus' neck, Yuzun repeated softly, "Very."

"He is not happy."

"Given the tradition-bound Saiyan ways, I suppose this is very disturbing," Yuzun allowed. Swinging around, a slim hip was propped against the communication station. "What are you going to do?" wondered Yuzun out loud.

"Tell our master, of course," replied Taurus promptly.

"And—?"

"And, just perhaps, call Shiruko in a couple of hours to let him know that I've unearthed more information about Youkan. He can safely inform Chieftain Miso and Chieftain Nira that their youngest son is unharmed and anxious to return to his duties in the Vejiitasein Empire."

"Ah." The golden eyes turned up slightly at the corners as Freeza's assistant smiled gently. "Sometimes corruption is so much more effective from a distance," remarked Yuzun.

"Yes." Taurus looked up at Yuzun, his mouth slowly curving. "I do like you in this form."

"Not that I've noticed any of my forms inhibiting you in the least," replied Yuzun dryly, "but it's not very Saiyan of you to indicate you like or dislike anything, my dear."

"I've been away from Vejiitasei a very long time," retorted Taurus. "Far too long, perhaps," he added softly, as if to himself.

"You are, of course, not planning on running off to the home world without permission. I would have to tell Freeza if you did that. Vejiitasei is not far enough away for you to hide from him."

"You would have to survive long enough to tell him," retorted Taurus with a dangerous gleam in his eye. He placed the back of his hand against the smooth expanse of pale thigh exposed between boot top and bodysuit. "I have seen Freeza, Yuzun. I am nowhere near him in power."

"You will never be near him in power," warned Yuzun.

Taurus turned his hand over and studied it, as if comparing the contrast of skin tones between the palm and the back against Yuzun's pastel-toned flesh. "It will be more effective to work with Lord Freeza's approval than without it," he agreed, absently. "So far I have it. I will not do anything to sacrifice it. I know what you think of Saiyans, but I am not a complete idiot, Yuzun."

Yuzun viewed him with half-closed eyes and a small, contented smile. "I have a very high opinion of Saiyans," the changeling mock-protested. "That's why I have you in my coterie, dear Taurus."

The Saiyan's fingers tightened, earning a protesting yelp from Yuzun. Taurus drew his hand away as Yuzun, pouting, rubbed the abused area. Then a yip came from the changeling as Taurus shifted, standing up, leaning forward to pin the other against the console. "Taurus—" gasped Yuzun in surprise, then couldn't say anything else for a few moments. The next words were husky. "If Lord Freeza calls — "

"—he is going to get an eyeful" was Taurus' amused murmur.

_________________________________________________________

Vegeta did not understand what ailed the creature.

He expected anger, tears, an extended temper-tantrum over his upcoming absence, but once she calmed down she should realize that this gave her what she claimed to need. Wasn't she complaining how underfoot he and the brat were, how she got no privacy? And wasn't he complaining how — cramped — he felt on Vejiitasei? A mission was the perfect answer for both of them.

Yet she was not reacting as she should. He wanted a screaming, no-holds-barred shouting match, something to get the blood pumping before he went off to his first real battle since facing the Demon King on Chikyuu. What he got was far different. The tight, pinched silence she maintained was something he had not previously experienced from her. During their only other public appearance of the day he tried to provoke her with knowing smirks and snide asides. She all but ignored him as she went through the awards ceremony for the planet-wide junior tournament with wooden movements. This odd reticence was not like Bulma.

She went to bed hours earlier than usual, forgoing her usual stint on the computer answering messages and going over the daily output of her engineers. She did not plead weariness or a headache or any sort of human weakness. She just went.

The King refused to change his schedule just because his mate was in one of her "moods," although he found it hard to stay up when there was no reason to do so. The brat, of course, went to bed at his usual time, although Vegeta was aware of his son looking between the two of them with a puzzled expression. With nothing else to do, the King called up information on Koorim, smiling tightly as he read about the disappearance of Saiyan soldiers in the area. Indeed, there might be something here worth my while. Glancing at the chronometer, he decided that it wasn't too early to go to bed.

Bulma was feigning sleep, as she did sometimes when, for whatever reason, she did not want to be disturbed. It was easy to tell from the pattern of her breathing, which was not nearly as even when she was asleep as when she was pretending. Folding his arms, Vegeta stared at the lump in the middle of the oversized bed, wondering if he should call her bluff. He gave a slight shrug; if she wanted to play this childish game, fine. Tugging off the Imperial armor and making a mental note to see about getting some real armor before the mission, Vegeta climbed into bed and scooted over to Bulma, tucking himself against her back and closing his eyes as he prepared for sleep.

Bulma moved away from him.

A bit startled, and at first just assuming she was trying to find a more comfortable position, Vegeta followed her body warmth. He was just beginning to drape his tail over her side as he settled next to her when she moved again, making sure they were not touching as she relocated. She's deliberately avoiding me? Promising, decided Vegeta as he weaseled after her. As if a Saiyan ever turned down a hunt!

It was a very strange chase, but, thought Vegeta smugly, there was only one possible outcome if only because the battlefield was limited. When she reached the edge of the bed, it seemed he finally had left her without a place to go. Grinning, Vegeta again folded his tail across her hip and started to nuzzle up against her back, closing his eyes (he knew better than to expect anything else when she was in a mood like this) and preparing to drift off to sleep. When she sat up and slammed her bare feet against the floor, he practically fell out of the bed. He blinked up at her as his Queen announced she was sleeping in her own bed tonight, dammit, and stalked off to the adjoining quarters that she had, in fact, not slept in since shortly after the brat's birth. Since it had been turned into the brat's room long ago, Vegeta wasn't sure there was a place for her to sleep in there. He sat up, watching her stalk out, utterly at a loss as to what had just happened.