Chapter 24

The rift between the King and the Queen was impossible to ignore. Both were in a continual temper. Bulma virtually lived in the engineering section, while the King stomped about with an almost-visible dark cloud hanging over his head. Initially just switching between annoyance and amusement, within a very short time Vegeta retreated behind a haughty wall of pride as it became clear that Bulma's flat opposition to his mission could not be mollified. As the tension between his parents increased, the Prince slunk from lesson to lesson, his big blue eyes tragic, obviously wondering what he had done to make his parents so angry.

"It's falling apart," said Chishan in amazement to his wife. "The entire relationship is unraveling, and neither of them seem interested in putting it back together."

Konny was unsympathetic. "Why are you surprised, baka? If they really are just together in the first place because they're bonded, then there's nothing to hold them together for the long run, is there? Those sorts of relationships have no real purpose. They're unstable from the beginning; they don't last." A stray thought brought a savage smirk. "Heh. If the King is really pissed off, we may see a return of the old harem after all."

Chishan pulled a face comical in its dismay. "Yeech, I hope not. Trying to remember who was who was always a pain. Not a lot of personality to distinguish them. The King would send for a particular concubine and I would have to hope the creature had enough brains left to respond to her own name because I couldn't tell one from another."

"The Earth woman is nothing more than a glorified concubine herself, whatever primitive native ceremony the King's hormones induced him into," Konny remarked, carelessly. "The only reason she hasn't been altered is because her ki is so pathetic she's no physical threat to the King whatsoever."

Chishan's attitude shifted. "There is no indication that she is going to be set aside, woman. Be very careful what you say about the Queen."

It was exactly the advice Konny would have given any of her fellow guards who were shooting off their mouths about members of the royal family. However, she was also very tired of hearing Chishan sing the praises of the Queen. One would think he was in charge of the alien woman's safety instead of Radditz. Fisting her hands low on her hips, she regarded her mate with narrowed eyes. "Oh, I'm sure if she becomes available my days become numbered, eh?" growled Konny with cold disdain.

"You're being absurd."

By now, she would have given up counseling her fellow guards to shut up and probably advanced to forcefully silencing them. Perversely, Konny continued. "You'll have to adopt the brat, too," she taunted. "He hasn't been confirmed as Heir; without some big, strong Elite to protect him, he's dead meat."

The next instant, breathing was nearly impossible.

"Shut up," said Chishan gently, as if they were still just talking and his flattened hand wasn't pinning her to the wall, pressing with such force her ribcage threatened to collapse.

Konny tried to snap at him to cut it out, but found that he had forced the air out of her lungs. She couldn't speak out loud. Cut it out! No response. He didn't like it when she thought-communicated to him, complaining that he needed to keep his mind clear in case one of the other guards required him for something important. In which case he needed to leave her with enough air to actually speak... Chishan— Black flecks danced in front of her eyes. She tried to charge up enough to break free, but he was not only physically more powerful he had a far stronger ki; there was nothing she could do. Desperately she focused what was left of her energy into a single psychic command. Stop!

He blinked—she had broken through to him that time. The pressure against her breastbone eased. For a minute Chishan simply held her pinned against the wall, head tilted to one side, studying her as if she represented an abstract problem he didn't care to deal with. Finally he took a big step back, crossing his arms and watching impassively as she slid down the wall, choking and coughing. Resting her forehead against her knees, Konny tucked her wrists over her chest as disbelief crowded her mind. She couldn't claim he had never hurt her before. During the rut season he could be very forceful (not that she minded), but she had glimpsed terminal intent in his thoughts, and that startled her. And, perhaps, something more than blind loyalty to the foreign Queen had been there, but the shields slammed into place so fast Konny wasn't sure what else she had really sensed. She lifted her head to deliver a lethal glare. "Bastard," she hissed at him angrily.

"Treason does that to me," responded Chishan, still in that dangerous quiet voice. "Be very careful, woman. Our last brat did get a signal off, so he survived touch-down. You have your Elite genes; I have at least one surviving offspring. Any time you want to call this off, say the word."

Konny knew real fear then. The scarcity of females meant she would not have any difficulty getting another mate, but she would be unlikely to obtain one equal to Chishan in power or rank. And there was the brat (or brats, if the others survived) to consider. If he divorced her, then her offspring would have no claim to his protection when they returned to the planet. Not everyone emerged unscathed from the camps. Struggling to her feet, leaning against the wall for support, she opted for an air of disgusted nonchalance. "Feh," she said with a casually-raised shoulder, "you take offhand comments too seriously, Chishan."

They stared at each other, her gaze defiant, Chishan's cold and measuring. Finally, Chishan turned away. "I have to go," said he. "The Queen wanted some help with specifications on a new relay transmitter her engineers are working on."

Konny managed to keep her feet until the door swished closed after him. Then she collapsed back to the floor, a hand pressed defensively over her aching breast, black anger crowding her thoughts.

_________________________________________________________

"Vegeta is going off-planet?" Freeza pondered the report from Taurus that Yuzun transmitted. He set one of his long fingers against a pale cheek. "The little monkey still can surprise me," he murmured to himself, almost in admiration.

Dodoria queried, "Your orders are...?"

"The same, of course."

Dodoria was startled enough to offer a weak protest. "But if the Captain kills him—"

"There may be chaos in Saiyan space?" The black lips pressed into a curve. "Won't that be —interesting," Freeza softly said. "I repeat, Dodoria; there is no change in orders. This exercise was meant to harass the Saiyan monarchy. The planet itself is too far within their borders to be of any use to us, and I do not wish to be associated with this operation. Only one of my fighters remain on Koorim. Once the next set of warriors is destroyed, the Captain will pull out and leave the natives to their inevitable fate. The composition of the warriors destroyed is none of my concern."

_________________________________________________________

The state of near-open hostility between the King and Queen made many wonder, as Konny did, whether there would be a Queen much longer. Even though most of them didn't have a clue what the problem was, the animosity between the royal couple seeped into the attitudes of the King's and Queen's Guards. Only the public show of solidarity between the two Captains prevented anything more than the occasional scuffle between more hot-headed members of both camps. Chishan, while he did not have the absolute loyalty of all his two hundred subordinates, was strong enough that no one could be completely sure of surviving a challenge; the weaker Radditz did have the loyalty of his largely-Northern warriors, which included the impressive strength of Tamane. Yet it was no great surprise when the Queen's champion, the Chieftain of the Northern Tribes, was summoned to the capitol.

What dumbfounded those who took great interest in calculating the permutations of a break-up between the Royal couple was that the Chieftain came not at the behest of the Queen, whom his tribes were sworn to protect, but the King. Rumors ran rife as Kyukon arrived in the capitol. He was met at the landing platform by both Captains and promptly conducted to the Court.

Kyukon was by far the youngest of the five Chieftains. He came to power not by combat, but when his mother was killed in a rare shuttle implosion. Some of the daimyos and other Chieftains were inclined to be scornful of his easy succession, but he had defended his leadership of the tribes against several challengers so the mutters were muted. His dark, shaggy hair was about as long as it got for Saiyans without the taint, cascading just past his shoulders. Almost every moment of his life had been spent on the Northern Continent, giving his skin a dark, rich gray hue much more pronounced than the Northern guards who spent most of their time in court. His armor and leggings were likewise dark gray, leaving the only trace of color about him the deep blue woven sash that crossed his chest.

Upon seeing him, the King cut short a diatribe by Chieftain Miso with a curt, "We are looking into that" and declared the session was in recess. With an imperious gesture indicating that Kyukon should follow, Vegeta stalked out of the chamber. After a pronounced pause, both were followed at a respectable distance by the King's liaison, Zarbon.

Vegeta led them to the private quarters of the royal family. Zarbon paused at the entrance, glancing around. "No Queen's guards, so she isn't here," Vegeta threw over his shoulder. "Probably playing in the engineering section again." Frowning, Zarbon stepped in and sealed the door after him. He walked past the Chieftain, approaching Vegeta but halting uncertainly when the King turned away to stare out the window of the balcony. Kyukon gave Zarbon a quizzical glance, but voiced no objection to his presence.

"You may have heard rumors that I will be personally overseeing a mission to the planet Koorim," the King said. "These rumors are true. The conclusion of many people is that Miso will assume protectorship of the planet while I am on the mission."

Zarbon interjected, "As the closest in blood to the throne, he traditionally should be in charge."

It appeared to be an issue between the two. The King faced his liaison, his visage stern. "My primary concern," the King replied, coldly, "is the safety of the Queen and the Heir during my absence. I will not trust that to 'tradition.' Some idiot who wants a return to how it was before may see this as an opportunity, may even be able to convince himself that it is what I want. It is not," the King emphatically stated. "Your Northern tribes are sworn to her, Chieftain Kyukon. I will announce that all issues while I am off-world are to be addressed to you. That should make my position clear to all." Kyukon's eyes widened, but it was clearly an edict rather than a request. He bowed in acknowledgment. The King went on with, "I leave within the week, so if you have any tribal duties that must be discharged, deal with them immediately."

"So soon?" asked Kyukon in surprise. "My King, I am unfamiliar with the off-world diplomats and with the policies of the court. Will that be enough time for me to be thoroughly briefed?"

"You misunderstand. I will announce that you are in charge while I'm on this mission, but you are not my voice. Zarbon is."

Zarbon delicately bit his lip. His face was impassive but the alien's golden eyes were worried and indecisive, as if he didn't like what the King was saying and yet agreed with it.

"I suggest you listen to Zarbon, Chieftain," continued the King in a tone that meant it was no suggestion. "You may be the muscle while I'm off world chastising this very foolish planet, but he is the brains. Remember that."

Considering he was a lower level Elite, being called "muscle" when compared to many of those in the Guard, let alone to Zarbon, was fairly absurd. "To be the figurehead for my King's liaison is an honor, of course," said Kyukon with a strong undercurrent of irony. "If I may make one suggestion, though, my King. If we are truly working with such a tight schedule, the sooner we make this official, the better. It's always good to give Saiyans time to digest new ideas."

_________________________________________________________

The King's return to the court was brief. He stood on the dais long enough to officially announce his departure on a mission and the appointment of Kyukon as the King's representative during his absence. Then, before more than surprised murmurs could be uttered, the King ordered the end of the session and stalked out. His startled guards scrambled to follow him. Standing at the foot of the dais, Kyukon glanced toward Zarbon. The liaison had one hand over his face, as if he couldn't quite believe the King's bluntness. "If anyone has any questions or concerns," Kyukon said dryly after a pause, "you have the next five minutes to address them to me. After that, I don't want to hear about it."

Miso evidently had no questions. Scowling at the King's departure, he stood in the back of the throne room and glowered. One of the exiting guards briefly paused by his side. "He's going to leave the Northern Chieftain in charge and you're going to let him?" Shiruko demanded in an undertone.

"If you have a problem with how the command of the Southern tribes is being handled, you know what to do about it," replied Miso tartly.

After a last, disbelieving stare, Shiruko pivoted away. Miso gazed after him even as his muscles, tensing in expectation of a challenge, relaxed in involuntary relief. What is it with my sons? But there was, thank Kami, another option. He made a mental note to put in a call to Nira and check on the training progress of their daughter.

_________________________________________________________

There was no indication that the appointment of her Chieftain satisfied the Queen, who remained uncommunicative and distant. The King in turn became more temperamental, inclined to blow up anything (or anyone) that annoyed him. As the date for the King's departure approached even traditionalists checked the calendar on a regular basis, thinking a sojourn offworld for the King would do the entire planet good.

There were logistical problems regarding the King's offworld protection that it fell to Chishan to solve. Vegeta would have preferred not to have any of his guards along, complaining that their lack of practical military experience meant they were more likely to get in the way than anything else. While privately agreeing with that assessment, Chishan was able to prevail upon the King the importance of including just enough to satisfy regulations.

Satisfying his own subordinates provided another challenge. At least one lieutenant took his lack of inclusion as a personal slight.

Chishan regarded the irate young Shiruko sardonically. "There are too many heirs to the Houses of Misei and Tallesei offworld all ready," he said. "I would be derelict in my duty if I sent yet another one away. You will be the highest ranking King's Guard left on the planet. I had assumed that would be to your liking."

"There's little point to being a King's Guard without a King," retorted Shiruko.

"Satisfy yourself with looking after the future King," Chishan snapped back.

_________________________________________________________

Papa was leaving and Mom was sad.

Trunks tried to study hard and train hard so that both of his parents would be happy again, but his efforts went unrewarded. Zarbon told him it was not that simple, that it was complicated grown-up stuff, and that his parents weren't upset at him but with each other. That was as much of an explanation as the liaison could offer, however; apparently he was not exactly sure what the problem was, either.

The night before Papa's departure was tense. Mom joined them for dinner, something she hadn't done for a week. Trunks soon decided it wasn't a good idea. Mom had had enough of being quiet and withdrawn. No one ate anything as the meal deteriorated into a shouting match with Mom calling Papa names that sounded very mean, and Papa responding coldly with "Purging planets is what Saiyans do, woman. Why are you having a problem with this purge?"

Mom screamed back that she bet he just wished Earth had been purged. "What does that have to do with anything?" wondered his father in genuine bemusement. "It wasn't. Are you saying that leaving it intact was a mistake? It's one that's easily rectified."

At which point Mom ran into her room. Trunks could hear her sobbing so hard he wondered if she could breathe. Papa stalked out, muttering that he didn't need this craziness less than eight hours before the start of the mission and that he was going to train.

In all the fuss, no one remembered to tell him to go to bed. Trunks sat at the table for a while, pushing food around on his plate as he waited for one or the other of his parents to remember and come back, or at least send Zarbon in to do it, but no one showed up. He finally decided, a little grumpily, that if no one cared he was going to stay up for a while. Passing the door of Mom's room holding his hands over his ears to block her sobs out, Trunks made a beeline to Mom's communication center. He pulled up some files, studied them carefully, then delicately picked out coordinates on the computer's touchpad as he placed his first ever intergalactic call.

He had to endure nearly fifteen minutes of his grandmother's inanities. Mrs. Briefs took one look at him and wanted to know how he was, had he eaten recently, was he sleeping okay? Trunks didn't want to answer honestly, so he settled for looking imperial and muttering short, curt responses, the way Papa did whenever she asked him anything personal. She finally gave up and, as he repeatedly requested, went to get Gohan. Just seeing the bright, cheerful face made Trunks think everything might be okay. "Hey, Trunks, how are you doing? The tutors making you catch up on your homework?"

Trunks, not in the mood for small talk, blurted, "Papa's leaving."

"You mean he's visiting one of the other continents?" Gohan appeared surprised. "I didn't think he ever left the capitol unless it was an emergency."

"People are supposed to come to him. He is the King," Trunks reminded his friend. "He's leaving the planet, though. He has to go to another planet and make it ready for new people to live there."

Suddenly, Gohan's face tightened until the expression strongly resembled Mom's. His mouth flattened into a thin, white line as his features pulled taut. Pinched, Trunks decided. They both look ... pinched. For a long moment, Gohan acted like he didn't know what do say. "Do you understand what that means?" he asked, finally.

"Yes," said Trunks. "Mom is sad."

Gohan said, carefully, "It means he has to get rid of the people who are living there now."

"I know that," said Trunks, indignantly. "I'm not a little kid."

"How do you feel about that?" demanded Gohan urgently.

"'Feel'?"

"Yes, 'feel.'"

Uncertainly, "I don't think I 'feel' anything," replied Trunks.

Gohan didn't like that answer. Trunks could hear the clink of teeth grinding together over the console's sensitive microphone. I know he thinks you shouldn't kill things without a reason, but Papa must have a good reason...? "Maybe they're bad people," Trunks offered.

Gohan smiled, only it didn't look like a smile. "I'm sure they are," he said. "I'm sure there are good people and bad people and everything in between there. I'm sure they aren't that different from Saiyans, or humans, or anybody else. I'm sorry you have to be dealing with this. I was really young when I had to deal with something like it, but I was still older than you are now."

"Deal with what?" Trunks asked in confusion. "I just want Mom not to be sad while Papa's gone. You don't know how to do that?"

"No," said Gohan, grimly. "There's nothing I can do about this, Trunks. I'm too far away. There's nothing anyone can do, maybe. I've been trying to convince people for a long time we should stop the Saiyans from purging planets, but all the grown-ups tell me I want stuff too fast." He bowed his head. "I hate this," he said quietly to himself. "I hate not being able to do anything about this."

After an awkward stretch of silence Gohan deliberately changed the subject, asking again about his schoolwork. Trunks answered automatically as his mind worked independently of his words, lining up Mom's reactions against Gohan's reactions, seeking the common thread. Purging — there's something about purging that makes both of them sad — Finally Gohan, claiming that he was tired, put an end to the call. He didn't offer any final thoughts on what Papa was about to do, but his drawn face disturbed Trunks. Even after Gohan's visage faded from the screen, Trunks could see it inside his own head.

Great. He had called his friend for reassurance, and now Gohan was sad, too. Maybe it was because the other boy couldn't help him , even though before he left Gohan said he always would help. Gohan must have not realized how hard it was to help from so far away. But I'm here. Maybe I can do something to make Mom less sad. Sitting in the adult-sized chair in front of the communication console tapping the tips of his boots together, Trunks sank deep into thought as he considered what he could do to make it better.

_________________________________________________________

She cried until there were no more tears, and sobbed until her hiccups were nothing more than rapid, shallow gulps.

—purging planets is what Saiyans do, woman—

Too drained to sleep, feeling light-headed, as if the area between her temples had been completely emptied out with her tears, she drifted in a gray haze, not entirely aware, not at all caring.

—what Saiyans do—

When he came into the room, she was dimly aware of him. He leaned over her on the bed, one warm hand cupped over her shoulder. She stared at him with dull eyes, not seeing him, not acknowledging him. After a long moment, his hand slid away. The slap of his boots against the floor took him away from her, then the closing door shut even that faint noise out. He was gone. He was leaving for his mission.

—how could I have forgotten what Saiyans do—

It was not long after Vegeta left that Bulma dragged herself out of bed. Feeling as if the full weight of Vejiitasei's atmosphere was pressing against her, she went out onto the balcony, turning her face blindly toward the direction of the space port, knowing she was too far away to actually see Vegeta's ship without a telescope, but still thinking she might be able to somehow sense when he left the planet on his murderous mission. There was no adjustment on the gravity harness, she thought dully, that would make this burden any lighter.

"Mom?"

"Trunks, honey, Mom's in a bad mood. Not now."

"Mom," Trunks said to her, "he doesn't know how sad it makes you. But I do. I can't do anything now, but I'll be a grown-up someday. It'll be okay, then."

Bulma turned her head to look at her son, surprise filtering through the haze of misery. Kami-sama's words suddenly pushed to the front of her brain. There are some things that take more than a single human lifetime.

She wrapped her arms around her son, mentally begging the forgiveness of all the planets and races she couldn't save. But something had been planted in this strange, somber child she gave birth to, and he was as much human as Saiyan. Things might be different in the future.