Chapter 27

Despite the absence of the King, life on Vejiitasei was surprisingly normal. Recognizing that there was a backlog of high-level grievances to be addressed, Kyukon held court twice in the first week of his stewardship, listening intently to complaints and keying notes in on a hand-held computer. He affected none of the bored disdain that characterized Vegeta's demeanor during court, although he was not above publicly deriding nobles if he thought their complaints were either trivial or something better suited to a physical challenge than the King's judgement.

The Queen sat in on Kyukon's first sessions, but she soon had other priorities. Responding to a casual query from Bulma that she took to be a summons, Chieftain Nira came to the capitol with her young daughter in tow.

Shiruko did not especially want to deal with his relatives' trip to the capitol. He tried to suggest to his mother that the uncertain political standing of the Queen meant this was not a good time for a visit.

"She may have, as you say, fallen from favor, but she is still the Queen," retorted Nira. "She is still supported by my Chieftain. You did hear that Kabu slaughtered two daimyos last week because he thought they were being disrespectful? I have no interest in sharing their fate over something so trivial, nor do I wish my heir to face the sort of snide whispers about how he came to power as that whey-faced Northern chieftain does. In any case," she added with that cold Saiyan logic that so flummoxed Zarbon at times, "she may be able to do something to effect Youkan's release. If having my daughter "play" with the Prince gets me on her good side, I have no objections."

Although very surprised when Zarbon announced the arrival of "Chieftain Nira", and barely remembering who, exactly, Chieftain Nira was, Bulma took one look at the little Saiyan girl with the scowling face and lashing tail trying to act as if she were not hiding behind her mother and, promptly, canceled all of Trunks' classes for the day so he could come play with his "friend." This produced a mutinous out-thrust lower lip in the young Prince. Zarbon diplomatically suggested that letting Zenza join the Prince in a training session might be a more effective way to channel their youthful energies. Judging from the glowers on the faces of both children, neither were thrilled about that idea, either. "I'm sure training with the Prince will give my daughter a needed dose of discipline," drawled Nira.

Zenza's glare veered toward a pout; the Prince's expression turned smug. "I have lots of discipline," he pronounced. "Zarbon says so."

Indeed, the little boy trained with an awesome determination. Zarbon hoped it was inspired by Gohan's diligent example rather than the absence of the King.

The Heir's next words had Zarbon readjusting that thought. "Gohan says I'm going to need lots of discipline if I'm going to make it like Earth here," the young Prince informed Zenza (and, noticed the King's liaison, the entire room). "That way Mom won't be sad."

Zarbon winced; he was going to have to impress on the Heir that keeping his mouth shut was also good discipline. The little boy had been saying things like that constantly since the King's departure. So far no one but a few Guards and Zarbon himself had heard Trunks' plans, but just let a purist like Nappa get wind that the boy was singing the praises of Earth ways and there was likely to be an uproar. He cast a sidelong glance toward Nira; the Easterner's visage was completely impassive.

"I'm not sad," protested the Queen with a wan smile.

Trunks scowled fiercely. Despite the coloring and the strange, flat hair, there was a very Saiyan feel to the young boy's determination. That perhaps accounted for the brief, wry smile that chased across the visiting Chieftain's face as she gazed down at next king of Vejiitasei. "If I may offer a brief comment, my Prince," she said, diffidently. "Saiyans do not like words. If you just present them with change," there was a touch of irony in her voice as she regarded the Queen, "they are likely to just shrug and deal with it."

The Heir stared at her haughtily. Zenza crossed her small arms, a militant expression on her face. "I don't need discipline. I have power. Everyone in my line has power."

"Well, I'm going to be King," Trunks shot back. Top that, his tone implied. "You're going to have to have enough discipline to do what I tell you to do."

"Trunks, be nice to your guest," admonished the Queen. "Why don't you and your little friend go out and play? It's too nice a day for you two to be cooped up in here."

"Or at least wait in the gardens until it's time to start training," interjected Zarbon, eyeing the rebellious expressions on both children with concern. All he needed was for Trunks to head off to the city with his 'friend' while he was in a temper. Without Gohan to keep him in check, the capitol would be in chaos with one ill-timed tantrum. "I'll be there in half an hour. Do not leave the grounds without me."

Grimacing, the Prince nodded agreement. Without waiting for Zenza, he hovered off the floor and used his ki to open the doors to the nearest balcony, a feat that just made Zenza glare more viciously at him. As soon as he floated outside, he dropped out of sight. Zenza stomped out onto the balcony, clambered to the top of the banister and, after gauging the distance to the ground, jumped. Her blue eyes widening, the Queen took a startled step forward, her hand stretched out to the empty balcony.

"She'll be fine, my Queen," Nira assured her. "She's been doing that from the roof of my palace lately. She's just impatient to fly."

"If you're sure," responded the Queen dubiously.

Zarbon rubbed two fingers against his forehead, reminding himself to make sure that, if there did happen to be a small child-sized body underneath the balcony when the training session started, it was cleaned up before Bulma went anywhere near the royal gardens. He excused himself to the two women.

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Zenza landed in a deep knee bend several stories under the balcony, sending up a small cloud of dust. His arms folded, the Prince was making a point of hovering a short distance off the ground. "I don't care what Mom says. You aren't my friend."

As much as Zenza agreed, there was another part of the Queen's comment she found more irritating. "I'm not little, either."

"I don't have time to waste with little girls." The Prince stared down his nose at her.

All of the warnings and admonishing her mother had inflicted on her during their preparation for the trip to the capitol evaporated. "Your Mom says you have to be nice to me," Zenza snapped. "She's the Queen."

"I don't have to agree with someone just because of who they are." Trunks repositioned his nose, now sticking it high in the air.

"Fine. Then I don't have to agree with you."

"Do, too! I'm the boss of you," argued Trunks hotly. "I'm going to be the boss of everyone."

"You aren't yet. Not unless you catch me!" With that, Zenza stuck her tongue out, wiggling it with a rude raspberry noise.

"You take that back!"

When Bulma insisted on looking out the window to check on the children, she was pleased to see them playing chase around the thick-trunked trees that lined the path, Zenza running so fast she was nearly a blur, Trunks flying after her waving his arms frantically with every sharp turn he had to make. "Look how well they get along," she said brightly to Nira. "Must you really leave so soon? It would be a shame to separate them."

Watching the same scene with Saiyan eyes, Nira was torn between amusement at her daughter's audacity and a fervent hope that the Heir was too much of an Earthling to disintegrate Zenza for disrespect. Daughters were a valuable commodity among nobles, and she didn't want to lose the only one she had. On the other hand, there were only a few years invested in Zenza so far, and she and Miso were not so far gone that they couldn't try for another one. "I need to be present for the Council of Eastern Chieftains, my Queen. However," she added when Bulma's face fell, "if you feel my daughter may be of service to the Heir, you are welcome to her company for a while."

Despite Trunks' loud protests that he didn't need anyone to play with and the little girl's own grumbling, when Nira departed for her scheduled conference she left Zenza behind for a week-long "visit." When she returned to collect her daughter (assuming, she thought to herself, there was anything left of her daughter to collect once the Prince was done "playing" with her), it might prove to be a good time to bring up the difficult subject of her youngest son's continuing detainment in Cold space.

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He was probably spending more time in front of the tank than another Saiyan would have considered appropriate, but Youkan didn't care. The only other Saiyan on the outpost was his brother, and Taurus had never expressed anything other than mild indifference where his relationship with Kimchee was concerned. It stood in marked contrast to the usual viciousness they faced when on Vejiitasei. Both of their respective squads were — not supportive, exactly, "supportive" was just not a Saiyan trait — but the blase acceptance of the lower class warriors was a refreshing change from the contempt they both faced on Vejiitasei.

But the squads were gone. The entire legion was gone. It was beyond belief that the universe would permit so many Saiyans to perish in such a meaningless manner. Youkan set his hand against the side of the tank, feeling the heat from the chemicals seep through the clear container to warm his palm. Death by asteroid field due to navigational miscue — his face pulled into lines of distaste. More than just a waste of Saiyan warriors, it was personally frustrating as well. Those killed in a natural disaster could not be avenged. Youkan studied his mate's unconscious, slack features, then turned his head away from the tank. He hated that Kimchee was in there, but it at least saved her from dealing with this dishonor.

A vibration of movement caught his attention, drawing his gaze to the attendant on duty. That protoplasmic thing again. Yeech. It often could be seen flowing near Kimchee's tank, adjusting chemicals as it twined extensions of itself around dials or poked at buttons with sharpened, stretched translucent flesh. Although he had come into contact with many species (and body types) as part of the off-world forces, and had even periodically worked with non-Saiyan mercenaries, this amorphous life-form was new to him. It was hard to know what one was gazing at when one looked at the thing. There was armor of a sort, but the plates did not correspond to shoulders or hips, merely floated about in the pale viscous mass, sometimes protruding, sometimes absorbed back into the shiny body. The one equipment constant was a visor, or at least a colored clear swathe of material Youkan took for a visor, set in its midsection. Usually. Like the creature itself, the visor's location was fluid. It could bulge outward as it "peered" at controls, or retract almost completely into the body, perhaps as the creature closed its eyes. Not that it had eyes, or even eyespots. Yuzun had to repress a shudder. The thing just gave him the creeps.

It crept toward him like a giant slug. Generally it oozed by with a few twitches on its way to Kimchee's console. Today it paused with an indecisive quiver before it softly burbled at him. It's trying to...talk to me? The effrontery! Youkan delivered a lofty, contemptuous stare, but it just burbled some more, reiterating sounds. In spite of not wanting to communicate with it, the repetitive syllables began to form words in Youkan's mind as he automatically filtered out watery slurs not usually heard in Standard. It was saying something like, "Mate-spouse-other?"

What is it asking? Youkan turned his eyes back to Kimchee's silent, unconscious form. "This is my wife, yes," he finally responded, coldly.

There was a shimmy from the creature that Youkan caught out of the corner of his eye. As it spoke again, Youkan realized the noises were coming from what he had taken to be the visor; apparently it doubled as a communication device. "Mate-spouse-other received, bad hurt. Self offer aid. Sibling-brother indifferent-uncaring, but tank free-empty-available. Work difficult-long, achieved success." It hovered expectantly next to him, as if awaiting a response.

The meaning was difficult to tease out, but what Youkan settled on was: This thing saved Kimchee over Taurus' objections? His mate, reflected Youkan wryly, would not like that. She wouldn't care a wit about Taurus' apathy, but being beholden to a non-Saiyan would prick her pride. "Thank you," he said, shortly. It was not a phrase often heard on Vejiitasei, but he had learned it went a long way with alien species. It didn't mean he was comfortable saying it.

There was another pleased-sounding burble. The thing hovered at his side, colors shifting gently. It was almost as if it were curious or interested or both. Why would it be interested in us? We not at all alike. He cast about for something to discuss with a pastel-tinged glob of jelly. "Er...how long have you worked for my brother?" I'm making small talk with a pile of mucus.

The gargled response had words he recognized, like "suns" and "season-time," but he could not translate it into a quantity. "Um...is that a long time?"

It shimmered, the tint altering from translucent to a pale opaque pink, accompanied by noises the communication device turned into chortles. Then it stretched until it was nearly flat, its mass compressed into a few inches as its width broadened until it became a wall with two outreaching extensions to indicate "time." Yuukan's mouth quirk in involuntary amusement. "That long, eh?"

After a moment, the entity gave out another series of disjointed utterances, from which Youkan gathered that it was enjoying the company but it had patients from "Master's" last training bout that needed tending. The entity began to ooze away. "Wait. When we were brought here—were there others?" asked Youkan.

"No," said the other with what must have been unusual brevity.

Which left him where he started; unable to even blow up a faulty regeneration tank to avenge his fallen comrades. Youkan sightlessly stared after the creature as it oozed to the next tank. His gaze slowly sharpened. Taurus was several tanks over, watching with a quizzical tinge to his strong-featured face. The med-tech made a few slurring noises as it slid near Taurus; to Youkan's amazement, Taurus replied in kind as it seeped past, although his eyes remained on Youkan. The med-tech sluiced away to carry out Taurus' bidding. Flipping his white cape over one shoulder, Taurus approached his brother.

The recent revelations about Kimchee did not make Youkan feel very brotherly. "You're still here," he said, shortly. "I've hardly seen you since Yuzun arrived."

"Now whose fault is that?" queried Taurus with a significant glance toward Kimchee. "We were expecting you for dinner. The shellfish is getting warm. The spiced wine is cooling. Neither are at their best that way." He regarded his younger sibling sardonically. "You can't afford to be picky about the company you keep, Youkan. Freeza's attaché is a very important person, just like the King's liaison is. I imagine you would not be so cavalier about an invitation that included Zarbon." His gaze turned sardonic. "Or I could just set you up here with a cot and an alter. "

"You said she wasn't hurt."

"Is she hurt?" Taurus inspected his sister-in-law. A smile tugged at his mouth. "I have to say, she appears to me to have all the pertinent parts. I suppose you know better."

"When she got here," snapped Youkan.

"I don't think I ever said anything about that one way or another." There was the barest hint of steel in the smooth voice; a warning, perhaps. "A med tech took an interest in her, perhaps because it thought saving one of my own would please me. Or perhaps it realized she was your mate. It's what you would call a 'romantic.' Oh, excuse me; not that a true Saiyan would ever use that word. In any case, it's a healer, and healers sometimes have a hard time letting go. You may view the medical logs, if you like."

Youkan scowled, sullenly refusing to look at him, not liking that Kimchee's survival was due to an alien's whim.

"I did give permission to continue. Most would consider lavishing such care on a barbarian with no particular value to my master a waste of valuable resources. I could have said 'no'."

Which pointed out that the person in charge of Kimchee's safety, too, had whims. "You're trying to provoke me."

"Oh, I could do so much more than just 'provoke' you." Taurus spoke in that annoying half-amused way he had, as if laughing at some private joke. "Don't be foolish, boy."

Youkan was used to thinking of himself as powerful. Taurus' casual dismissal of his strength was irksome – except that Youkan had heard things about Cold's elite warriors, including a rumor that a non-transformed Saiyan would have difficulty obtaining "elite" status. He turned his eyes away from the tank, viewing his brother with a frown. "How could you be in Freeza's guard?"

"The usual. Applications, interviews, killing a few dozen people in tournaments..."

"I mean," Youkan gritted, "if the rumors are true then the basic ki level for being in Freeza's personal guard is a lot higher than anything you should have."

"Wishing you had your scouter, little brother? Sorry; there's entirely too much information you could gather with that." Taurus turned his back to the tank, leaning his shoulders against it as he folded his arms. He looked down, eyes half-closing. The next words were spoken as if in a dream, inflectionless, emotionless. "A strange thing happened when I was a scout, Youkan. I had the chance to taste some forbidden fruit. Alas, I only got a mouthful before some over-reaching frog-face slapped it out of my hands. Even so, the power it imparted to me — nearly destroyed me. It was fortunate that what was left of me fell into Lord Freeza's hands. He was just curious enough about my potential to let me live. He enjoys nurturing power."

"I'm surprised you're here instead of demanding satisfaction from the frogface."

"It was on the agenda. Zarbon saved me the trouble. I'll have to thank him for that some day." Taurus gave a small shake of his head, as if physically dismissing the past. He turned to his brother, a small smile playing about his mouth. "Ironic, isn't it? Father aligned himself with the House of Tallesei to bring more physical power into his line. Yet the most powerful scion of the House of Misei, rather than being its heir, resides in a neighboring empire serving a non-Saiyan ruler."

"It was probably part of the marriage arrangement. High born females are rare. Father needed to marry someone of his own class, and Mother wanted to assure the succession to her own tribe so she insisted on the firstborn being her heir. It's pretty standard."

"Whatever our parents decided about who gets what, I am the firstborn to the House of Misei," said Taurus, coolly. The smile still curved his mouth, but even by Saiyan standards, it was cold. His dark eyes glittered at Youkan. "If my birth placement is not enough for our father, then I will demonstrate my right to be his heir through my strength. Do you oppose me, boy?" There was something hardening in his face, in his voice, as he gazed steadily at his younger brother. "The old King did not want a power struggle in the House of Misei. That was one reason he sent me away, telling me to come back when I accepted my astonishing good fortune at being the heir to anything. Notice," he added softly, "that I am still here rather than on Vejiitasei."

Was that a challenge? Youkan glanced back at Kimchee's still form. He was the only protection she had in this alien place; he couldn't afford a fight."I don't see the point in fighting amongst ourselves."

"You have a strong streak of sentimentality, too, eh? It seems to run in the line."

Youkan shrugged. "Well, we are part Eastern. Easterners are known for that."

There was a pause. "I think the emotionality of Easterners has been...exaggerated," replied Taurus. "In fact, I strongly suspect it comes from the House of Misei genes. How fortuitous," he added with a strong undercurrent of irony and contempt, "it seemed to miss me, eh?" He turned away with a flourish of his white cape. "Stay here and moon over the female if you like. I'm having dinner."

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Having Zenza around at least kept Trunks from constantly brooding about the situation between his parents. Bulma was discovering that distracting herself was not so easy. After Vegeta's departure Bulma had deliberately overscheduled herself, trying to crowd her mind so no stray part of it could be concerned with how her husband was or what he was doing. That tactic only worked sometimes, and today was not one of those times. After the third attempt at adjusting the parameters for the redesigned warp drive went awry, Bulma slammed her fists down on the computer keypad and spun in her chair. Her engineers jumped and shied away; the Captain of her Guard crossed his arms and glowered at her. "You've gone through three of those in the last week," he said.

"What's it to you?" Bulma snarled at him.

"If you break your toys, my Queen, you'll have nothing to play with," Radditz pointed out with a cold smile.

Snatching up her coffee cup, Bulma flung it, coffee and all, straight at him. Any other guard would have remained still and dutifully allowed the projectile to strike. Not Radditz. The air around her Captain electrified. With a brief 'fzzt,' the cup and its trail of dark droplets phased out of existence. "Temper," Radditz chastised her, his tone mild. "Consider, my Queen; if you cannot work in here twenty hours a day, you will have to find another way to occupy your time until the King's return. We poor moronic Saiyans will not be able to keep you entertained."

Radditz had a peculiar idea of what his duties to her entailed. She said as much, sharply. He replied with the usual half-scornful Saiyan smirk. "The well-being of the Queen is my concern. Besides," he added more prosaically, "Bra has been nagging me half to death about you."

Why would Mom be doing that? Bulma eyed him suspiciously. "Did you tell her where Vegeta was?"

Radditz scowled as if at a bad memory. "Yes."

"What did she say?"

"She said 'oh' and changed the subject."

That explains why she hasn't been pushing me so hard. She knows. Her temper fizzled out. Bulma spun in her chair again, regarding the numbers on her computer screen grimly.

"The King has been asking Zarbon about you," came Radditz's voice from behind her. "He's hard put to answer honestly. You could call him yourself and spare the rest of us the necessity of putting up with his foul mood."

Hi, honey. How is the purge going? Are you done killing everyone?

"I'm not ready to talk to him yet," said Bulma.

A shadow fell over her, then Radditz edged into her field of vision, propping a big thigh against her console as she refused to look directly at him. "What the hell happened?" he demanded in a low tone. "Everything was fine, then suddenly you can't stand to be on the same planet. You're making everyone miserable; Zarbon, your son, everyone. I don't even know what to say to your mother when she calls. She asked me if I thought you needed her to turn the ship around and come back. How am I supposed to answer something like that when I don't even know what's wrong?"

Bulma winced; all she needed was her mother hovering over her. "She can't just turn around, fortunately. They have to refuel and restock before coming back to Vejiitasei. In any case, Vegeta will be home before she could get here." She tapped the numbers on the screen, slowly beginning to focus on them. "There's certain laws of physics even Dad and I can't bend. Theoretically if everything is optimal we should have a week turn-around between trips. However, the human body is pretty non-optimal when it comes to space travel, it'll never stand the stresses involved. Still, if I can get this to work we can at least get the supply ships down to that." Just for an instant it was as if the numbers burned into her brain, trying to take it over. Her hands hovered over the keyboard.

The alien's grip on her wrist was nearly breaking bones; she heard her own voice babbling inanely as she said something, anything, to keep him from disintegrating her on the spot, to keep him from killing her outright—

She again lost the trail the numbers were trying to lead her down. Defeated, she laced her fingers and propped her forehead against them, trying hard (so hard) to not remember how, why she'd met Vegeta.

Radditz murmured her name quietly. Bulma raised her head to rest her chin on her hands, staring sightlessly at the computer screen. "Radditz, have you ever had the sense that what you do is wrong?"

"'Wrong'?" He sounded perplexed.

"Evil."

"What's your point?" queried Radditz after a puzzled pause.

"Think about it. Just think for a minute," Bulma insisted. "What if Vegeta had purged Earth? All this new commerce that is centered on Vejiitasei wouldn't be possible if Earth's populace had been eradicated. Have you ever considered what you might be losing, what you must be losing, by destroying entire cultures?"

He gazed down at her gravely, his expression hard to read. "Ah, I see. This is one of your human conceits, to torture yourself with 'what if' games. Bulma, if the measure of the fitness of a species is how successful it is, the Saiyans are a very fit, very successful species. Nothing else matters."

There is no point of middle ground with them. It's all survival of the fittest. "I suppose we humans seem very weak and ineffectual in comparison."

"Far be it to disagree with my Queen," said Radditz with exaggerated irony.

"But what if it were the planet of someone you knew, maybe Zarbon's? Wouldn't you care then?"

"Now you're just being childish. Zarbon is strong enough to defend his planet from attack, and there are those among his race's warrior class that are stronger still. So;" he shrugged; "that can't happen."

"It's still wrong," said Bulma, but her voice was resigned and plaintive.

Radditz sighed, and pushed himself away from the console. "Bulma, I know you're upset about Vegeta being off planet, but is it really because of the purging mission? If it is, that doesn't make any sense. There are a hundred other purging mission, and twice that many lesser subjugations, happening on any given day. It isn't reasonable to be angry at the King because he's doing what Saiyans have always done."

"No," she agreed in a dull monotone.

Radditz tipped his head to the side. Obviously he didn't know what to make of her weary acquiescence. "Consider this: the two most powerful empires in the known universe have based their power on clearing planets. If there is some universal constant that condemns that as morally wrong — where is it?"

"I don't know," the Queen said. "Nothing more is getting done with the warp drive today, though. I'm just not into it. Let's go see how Trunks and his friend are getting along."

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That thing is the bane of my existence, decided Radditz as he opened the door to his private quarters to find the communication console urgently beeping. No, Bulma is the bane of my existence. I just don't understand what her problem is lately... Grumbling, he sprinted across the room and slapped his hand against the controls. "What?" he snapped.

"Where the hell have you been?" growled Vegeta. "I've been calling for the last two hours."

Radditz could feel his jaw dropping. He just couldn't prevent it. "Sire!" he stammered out in consternation. "I — I've been with Bulma, I mean the Queen. I — What do you need, my King?"

"How is the woman?" demanded the King.

Is my wife still there? Radditz mentally translated as he remembered to click his jaw shut. He's checking up on her through me now? Zarbon, he knew, hated situations where there was a conflict between duty to the Queen and duty to the King. As someone whose honor was solely devoted to the wellbeing of the Queen, however, Radditz had no such problem. Oh, I will catch hell for this, he thought with malicious glee as he told the King exactly what the Queen was working on.